I feel it start. The anger begins to well up inside me. I allow no release
I become quiet… I say nothing
Then it begins to reach a level that I cannot contain. It starts simple at first.
My competitive comments are no longer meant to provoke, but to cut.
I use my skill in words not for fun, but to wound my opponents emotionally… to quiet their reckless and prideful mouths.
Again and again… victory has been pulled beyond my reach again. Hate becomes my lifestyle, and anger my companion. Hurtful words my outlet, and sarcasm my disguise. My heart loses hope, my face sees no joy. I shut down, but only for a moment.
Unspoken rules start to be bent, and trust broken behind skillfully hidden intentions.
Fairness is not my objective but justice. The pride must be brought down. The unearned glory must be stripped away. The satisfaction must be eliminated. By words. Again. I do not succeed. Pride lingers, and hate is fostered.
They have pride and I have hate. They get glory, while my anger rises. Their efforts are smiled upon, while I am mocked… slowly beginning to detest the thought of happiness for anyone but those of my choosing. Somehow the sins of my enemy seem to strengthen their position, while mine drags me deeper and deeper into itself, until I am engulfed by it.
“Let’s call it a night.”
My anger is still evident, my heart still frowns. I sit, quiet. My words are few, and carefully chosen. I sit pondering, ready to attack at the slightest provocation. I carefully observe my surroundings as I prepare my attack strategies. Quiet I sit, staring at nothing. No one speaks of me or to me. The room empties, I remain. I wallow in my hatred and self-defeat. Life is gone, all that matters is revenge. The hate slowly subsides, and the anger cools. I am able to move again, as I ponder what tomorrow brings…