Echoes.

My anger is a tangible thing.
It breathes, it walks, it pulses along with the music… it even drives, I discover, as cars flash by me in a haze of red and orange.

Why am I so angry this morning?
I’m not sure. It doesn’t really matter and thinking about it only makes me angrier.

I don’t want to think.
Don’t want to concentrate.

I don’t want to do anything but drive as fast as I can, with the music as loud as it can go.
I keep thinking if I can go faster, be louder, that some of this feeling will fade, that I’ll be able to stop hating everything and anyone in my path.

And I do. For the entire ride to work this morning, I hate everyone.

The guy driving along side of me, pacing himself to keep up with me, only to show me that he can… He’s a fool. He has no idea how fast anger and hatred can take you.
The woman who has decided inexplicably that the road and the driver’s seat is the best place to apply makeup. She’s dust – not even worth thinking about on this drive.
The walking speed bumps, the corpse drivers – they’re all just a quick memory as I pass by them.

They’re not as sharp as me.
As smooth as me.
As blisteringly fast as I can be.
Don’t they see it?
Don’t they see how hopeless it all is?
This competition?
I will win.
No matter what, I HAVE to win.

And just like that, it’s over.
The anger fades.
I’m fighting for my life in my mind, yet again, and I know where the anger stems from… the fact that I have to.
And with that knowledge, the anger fades.

I want the anger back. The comfort of that heat back.
The seething concentration of screams that exist on the inside.
Because if that goes… the fear is left.
And I’m so sick of the fear.
Fear makes you weak.
Weak – when just moments ago, I was like lightening.