Sometimes I scare myself

It's a little bit of nothing wrapped up in a whole knotted mess of rage, and it's not worth any of all that nonsense, but it sits there and it singes my composure from the inside out.

I slipped a little bit today. I got angry. I was, in fact, furious. The whole "roaring in the ears" metaphor that everyone talks about isn't a metaphor. And I slipped a little bit today. I didn't laugh it off and say, "never mind. I wasn't busy anyway," or, "it's okay, don't worry about it." I let a sentence or two get away from me about how, "no, I didn't walk all the way here. I was driven here from several miles away and I left all my studying materials at home," and, "you should have told me before I got all the way here." I was trying to induce guilt, and it worked, and when I was offered what had been denied me, I very vindictively said, "it's FINE," and I stormed off. I slipped. I said some of what I was actually thinking, and I never say what I'm actually thinking about how I'm actually feeling, especially not when I'm angry.

Fear me. I will break you down to your elements and show you just how small you are, how insignificant I can make you feel, how everything you thought you were is nothing at all.

Get out of my sight, I spit in my head. Myself in my mind is reduced to a snarl, bared teeth and a roar of rage.

and a deep breath.

and a lowered head.

spent.