It is palpable.
It is alive.
I can feel it crawling from within me, creeping electricity over my skin, tingling and sharp.
Today the anger is so strong that I feel on the verge of losing control.
I want to run.
I want to escape this heaviness of responsibilities, of worry and counting only on myself.
Right now love is overshadowed by this white hot blistering, and I don't care anymore.
I don't want to be around the boy, because I don't want him to see me this way. I don't want him to think that I'm angry at him. I don't want him to take my anger on and have to bear it.
I don't want to be around him either. I almost can't stand to look at him, to try and have a coherent conversation at this point is so completely futile that I don't even want to try.
I smoke. I admit it, I light up and try to puff this stress out the window into the chilled air as I drive on into evening.
It doesn't matter where I'm going.
This burning trickle that's taking me over requires aloneness.
But it can't last long.
I mustn't show it.
Before I can take a step, before I set foot before foot to return to the world of home, the reality of family, I must sweep this away.
Somehow I must pull the strength to act as aloe to my burn, I must push all of this inside so deep that no one sees it.
I chase the anger down with loud music and slow breaths.
I park and ready myself...
and I am home.
PS I wrote this a while ago, and was waiting for the "right time" to have an opening for it because I really wanted to share. I am not angry about anything right now :-)