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It's not a cool thing to be angry all the time. It's not a good feeling, your whole being consumed by rage. Maybe it sounds hardcore, but it's scary when the only thing that will calm you down is the thought of flaying someone while he's tied to a table. It's weird when you realize you're growing a smile as you listen to your self-defense teacher explain how to gouge someone's eyes out.

I used to think my Dad had a bad temper. Who had I to compare his to but my mother's, who is as calm as they come. My Dad doesn't get as angry anymore. I guess the good Lord cures everything, because I sure fuck up just as much as, if not more than, I used to. I wonder if I'll grow out of my anger issues. I mean, will I still want to scalp every person who inconsiderately incessantly honk his horn while I'm driving when I'm 40? Hopefully not.

I've gone through a lot of instances where in I was convinced I was going to kill myself, but I don't think all the sadness and loneliness I've ever experienced can compare to my anger. I never get to express my anger in the ways I want, because killing and torturing people is illegal and I turned 18 this year. So I always end up a crying mess. Let me tell you, it is a thousand times worse crying because you're so angry than crying because you hate yourself. Actually, those two things aren't mutually exclusive, but with my anger, I feel so helpless. When I hate myself, I always think, I can always just end it if it gets to be too bad. With my anger, I feel so pathetic, because I cannot do what I want. It can be to inflict pain on someone or to destroy something.

I've spent the night locked in my room fuming, because I calmly asked my neighbors to lower the volume of their karaoke and they would not comply. I told the guards to tell them to, but they didn't listen to the guards, who seemed they couldn't care less about my problems. I don't think they understand that nobody says no to me. I have a paper on Moliere due on Tuesday and I can't even finish reading the play because of this noise. I guess it would be much better for my mental health if I let things slide, but I just can't. I don't think I'll ever be relieved unless I torture then kill those assholes. I've googled where I can purchase guns (tip: it's not E-bay) and contemplated on searching the house for one (I once saw a gun at my grandfather's closet. I wonder if my Dad owns one). My brother keeps yelling at my maid to check up on me because he thinks I will kill myself. Do not worry, brother, not over that drunk lower class animal residing in the pig sty near us.

I think everyone who's met me can tell I have a lack of restrain for my anger. Sometimes it's when someone says something ignorant like "women should stay in the kitchen" or when someone gives me an unfair grade. Suddenly I'm the crazy girl. It's not really something I want to be, so most of the time I just shut up. When people tell me something upsetting, I won't react at first, but then my palms get really sweaty and I get all fidgety. Then I might not sound crazy, but I look it anyway.

I thank whoever is responsible for horror movies, because 70% of the time, they're what get me through. There's writing too. And music. But mostly movies. With a lot of blood, and guts, and torn limbs, and peeled skin, and removed fingernails, and screeching screams for mercy. It feels like what inner peace would feel like.