angry lily, chapter 2

I have an anger problem, I'll give you that. Although I have never been exceptionally violent, more than occasionally I would get into a verbal battle with someone who got the best of me. And I'm not going to lie, I loved the thrill of making people suffer through my words. Loved the feeling of making people seem smaller, more insignificant. And that was what I was known for, fighting, and constantly being an enormous ball of anger, just waiting for the right time to explode on some random, defenseless person.

Fighting is the only thing that got people to notice me. That is how i developed a nickname that has stuck to my back since the third grade, when I told Mrs. Randolf to shove it up her butt. Only after she made me stand in a corner for three hours for licking another student. She told me the other children didn't want my demon child germs. The whole class laughed at me. I told her to shove it. My dad was called. We laughed the entire way home. Then he got all serious and told me I was grounded from the television for an entire month. I was so mad. I'm not even sure why I got mad, now that I look back. I never even watched t.v. back then, heck I still don't. I guess I was just mad for the feeling of being mad.

Anger was like a drug to me. Strong, sweet, addictive. It made me feel better about myself. It was my best friend. It protected me from harms way when I couldn't stand up for myself. I know it sounds confusing, but I guess that's just the way my brain happens to work. I usually confuse people, and that's why I don't socialize all that much.

I never got into a fight without a legit reason. I was very careful of who I would hang out around because the slightest thing would set me off. I know, it's sad.

I know you may not want to know this, and are probably thinking, 'come on tell me the story already!' So that's what I'm going to do, here's the story:

I was sitting on the cold concrete ledge right outside the entrance to my school, like I do everyday, when I heard a noise I knew all too well. The sound of the football players ganging up on a poor freshman. 'Poor kid,' I thought, as I made my way over to where they had cornered him. They had probably snuck up behind him and backed him into the corner. At least, that's what they usually did.