Temper temper...

I hate it. And love it. My temper. My overwhelming, all consuming, temper. Flashes of reckless, dangerous, sharp emotion that burns my blood but gives me the jump to move, to hit, to break, to yell. It's good for when I need it. There've been times, without it, I think either myself or somebody close to me would have gotten very very hurt. Or died. But in this god damn awful world, all the god damn time, my hands are tied. I'm muted. So entierly handicapped by social restraint and the expectations of these damn, calm, complacent people put on me. Imagine having your whole body cast in concrete. Covered over all the way up to your nose. Entirely aware though, as someone takes a match to your hair. It's enough to go mad, huh? And I've been like this for a good long while. Imagine how far gone I may be...