Rage

I have a horrible temper. Comes out of nowhere and kablooey, it's bad. I destroyed a room today in under a minute. Furious. Hate-filled. Unreasonable. Terrifying to be on either end of it. No telling what will set me off. It's never what you might think. Today it was a stack of papers sliding off a shelf above me while I was sewing. Not a big deal, really. Today, though, I threw things in all direction, cleared off my work surface with one arm while throwing things long-range with the other. Broke all kinds of stuff. Dead silent. Left the room at that point and huddled on the couch, hiding in my hoodie for awhile until the boiling sensation left my veins.

It's awful. Sadly, I had an audience today, and found myself tearfully apologizing a few minutes after the event. Shame he had to see that.

I don't know what causes these rages. It's the same thing that led me to scarification and self-mutilation as a teenager. Had to let the evil out somehow. Scary stuff, though, let me assure you. The only positive to this is it happens so very rarely. I'm probably good for a few months, now.