He was angry. He realized now that he was always angry. Anger was trapped inside of him and felt like a burning coal in his throat. And he could not swallow it. His anger was unfocused. He couldn't tell you what, exactly, he was angry about, because he himself did not know. His anger built upon itself, growing each day, slowly taking over any other sensation or feeling. He was angry at the world, at himself, at everyone he knew and everything he saw. But he hid it. He hid his feelings from himself as much as he could and, therefore, from everyone else. But it was eating him alive and he didn't feel like he could contain what he felt any longer. He thought about himself as a child as he slipped the blade out from its plastic housing. He thought about life when he was a boy when time seemed to spin on into a forever that would never end.

Stumble It!