I guess I was angry. No, that’s the understatement of the year. I was in white fury. I was enraged. I was…….am running out of vocabulary.

I didn’t realise I was mad. I didn’t know I had all this anger bottled up inside.

It resulted in this. And much more.
“IT’S JUST A MOUSE! We’ll go and buy a new one tomorrow!”
While the rest cowered in terror at my sudden burst, my sister strolled into the room casually and talked to me as if I were a kid throwing a tantrum.It’s always like that. Somehow, my fury never intimidate her.

It wasn’t about the mouse. It just took me a mouse to realise I was bitterly angry. And I was, though I didn’t know why. I just felt

That somehow, I’ve let people down. And I felt everyone was waiting for me to screw up. So they could mock and laugh at me.
But you know what’s even more stupid? When I needed someone to talk to, I didn’t know who I should pour it all out to. When I scrolled my phone’s address book, I realised they were just names. And I didn’t really know any of them.

See the bits on the floor? Those’re pieces of the wall when I slammed the door.
Just kidding.
They’re what’s left of my candle holder. I was so mad, I smashed it against the wall. And it broke, tiny pieces flying everywhere. I’ve had it since form 2. It was a small fairytale house with lots of tiny windows so if you lighted a candle inside it, you could see them seeping through its many windows. Very pretty.
I haven’t done that in a long long time. It felt so good.
When I did that, my dad, who was ignoring my tantrum, scolded me. I talked back and asked him to leave my room.
I’m so gonna be burned in hell.

He said I was old enough and I should act my age.
But you know what?

I’m sick of acting my age. I’m sick of smiling and not crying. I’m sick of pretending that
people’s words and actions don’t hurt.

People could say it wouldn’t solve anything or it’s not the right way but if it took a huge tantrum to calm myself down, so be it.

And I don’t see why PEOPLE should care. Because I certainly don’t.