I'm scared of getting angry.

It's a natural thing, anyway. We can't always keep it in, especially if we find ourselves pushed to the wall. What else if something heavy and unwarranted has been dropped on you, and you're left with no other option? Capture all the rage that you can capture, focus it on one thing, and detonate.

But for some reason, everybody else gets away with it, and I don't. I was notorious for my tantrums when I was younger; when things got pretty bad I'd be quick with a howl and a barrage of tears. I was in a pretty awkward position in elementary school: I'm the kid who does well and has many friends, but the only thing keeping me from getting the top annual prize was my somewhat rowdy attitude. That, and the light bulb I broke when I slammed the door too hard during one of those bouts.

Of course, high school was less kind on me, both because the people surrounding me were more ruthless, and because we were expected to act mature, or whatever came close to it at the time. So the people around me were able to express themselves freely, and I can't? Sure, my reactions are always exaggerated, at least to them, while they were quite savvy with expressing their disappointment. Words versus animal howls.

All through that time, one lesson was being eased down my consciousness, or shoved down my throat. Freaking self-control.

I did learn that I'm the impulsive type. It all made sense: I didn't have control over my emotions, so it always is a barrage when I decide to release it, which is often. Or, as all crossfades go, was often. Sure, things got pretty better afterwards - all those friendships got a little smoother, and those run-ins with the authorities were limited to when it's a good thing - and eventually I felt good about myself. I no longer was the immature, explosive boy who would burst at the slightest provocation. I was like everybody else.

My existence, however, meant I still had the abilities to become angry. College. I got visibly annoyed at so many people, but it never reached a peak as often. When it did, I got scared of the consequences. I once threw a jacket at Jason in anger and felt I've lost someone. I once argued against having Jom as a partner in CWTS class (I was insisting on Ian) and felt I've lost everyone. I suddenly was scared of doing one false move - one move that deviated from "normal" and "acceptable" - and it affecting everything. Not good for one who always looked for seriously visible acceptance, as opposed to tolerance.

Well, that went with everything else anyway. But I learned, and I coped, and I still felt uncomfortable.

Simply said, my existence meant I'm still able to be angry, but being a twenty-year-old meant you can't do it anymore, unless you want a run-in with the police. Keep it all in, and release in tempered, controlled, civilized passes. The situation at work led me to realize that I've kept literally everything - the backfire is, I've learned how to hold a grudge, and while they say it isn't good for you, well, what the heck? - and along with that, the urge to just let it all out for once. Just one big outburst, enough to make a point but not bad enough to make me lose everything.

As you've all seen, I'm left to writing about living mutant wigs. I did say life was always unfair towards me, because they can all get away with it.