Write about a moment of anger.
Larry, in a moment of rage and desperation, once asked me how I can control my anger so much better than everyone else.
"Because I've lived with it longer," I said.
It was true. Anger is my oldest companion. I've always been angry, since I first have memories of memories. It's been a sleeping monster inside of me, always there, waiting to get off the leash. I used to let it run free, but I hurt someone, my mother, so now it's always tethered inside of me, struggling to break loose. It was difficult to tame it, and it will always be a wild animal, but it's my faithful friend regardless. Other feelings are fleeting, coming in dribs and drabs, but my anger is permanent, fixed.
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