Anger

The feeling of betrayal, loss and disappointment. She acknowledged them for what they were and from whence they came. The knowledge, however, did nothing to quell the storm inside of her, building, simmering just below the surface; with enough force to implode. She herself wince in sympathy for the receiver of her delayed angry responses.

She reflects on the time, love and understanding she has invested. All with good intents.
Then she contrasted that with the sheer affrontations she had endured, defamation of character and prosecutions without justification or fair trial.
In retrospect, she walked right into the quagmire, fully conscious and aware. Maybe too aware. Now the loss, indescribable in its shock and blow to her system, that she has to suffer in silence.
Anger, mostly at herself, not ignoring though, the external injustices, courses through her system and turns every smile into a grimace. What’s even worse, this anger, should be nonexistent, as far as all are concerned. If there ever was a test to see how good her poker face is, this is it incarnate.
Pretend everything is OK, persons telling her to go to God etc. When all she wants to do is scream her heart out, until she is hoarse and in extension, until she feels no more. She knows she will never enact her anger or retaliate. It simply is not in her nature to exacerbate conflict.

This will never happen again and she will just absolve her losses, with lessons learnt. She hopes to exorcize the anger before it destroys her.
Why can’t she, at least once, just express it? Others have, hurled it at her time and again, with no care or regard for her feelings. She will feel too guilty, after, she knows. And God knows she has committed enough sins.

Her anger will just continue sending warning signs she will continue to ignore. Either way, it takes too much and she is just tired and desperately in need of rest. Her mind, however, has different plans for her waking moments and have intruded, on her retreat of sleep.
Sleep, that used to be her escape, is just another prison. Her thoughts have infiltrated the very place she has guarded, that she could go when she desperately needed escape, and cease to exist for those heavenly hours.

Adopted
cilaene

cilane

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