Sierra November India Papa Echo Romeo

My breathing quickens, my blood rushes, sending more oxygen to my brain, then my mind and thoughts flash in a flurry of possibilities and scenarios - too many and too fast to make sure i make the right choice. I start to feel the heat on the surface of my cheeks. What is supposedly cold and dry is now searing with beads of sweat forming on my face. My chest tightens. My muscles tense up. My throat dries up and constricts. My vision is not clear, its darting from whatever possible weapon there is. Its all a blur, all out of focus.

I've made my choice, i've chosen my words, i've chosen my reaction, i've chosen rage. I'm just one step away from violence, a position i've always been close to. I've been successful in controling, but this time, he's crossed the line, his sheer idiocy is the cause for this rage. I'm not even sure if it is idiocy. Maybe its to spite me.

He reacts to my threat. I've given him three seconds, and he still doesn't move. Now i'm on my way to using brute force. I know i shouldn't, but my chest feels tight with rage and what i think goes out the window, and so should he. He backs away just before i make my threats a reality. The only wise move so far.

My fists are balled so hard i could feel every joints presure. I try to loosen up my grip, but it just gets tighter. Every violent scenario is played with careful detail in my mind, now that i have the time. I start to wonder why i put up with this. Wonder why i havent shattered his kneecaps already. Wonder why i'm not dangling him by a rope from the top floor. Wonder why i'm not tying him to a chair and slowly carving his skin off. Wondering why i'm not sliting his abdomen and puling his guts all over him, giving him about a half hour with his guts squirming on his chest before he dies.

Then i wright this, and all the while, in the back of my mind, always questioning if i am going to post this. Still feeling like punching him in the face, hopefully breaking his nose. he deserves it. but i know i don't deserve bear the consequences. I deserve to punch him though. I'm a fraction calmer than i was twenty minutes ago, this is still going to shuttle my BUA... ARGH!

I've tried anger management, all that breathing deep, counting to ten, closing my eyes and visualising something nice. Truth be told, they all don't work. Writing only pauses it. Whats best is punching the wall till your knuckles start to tear a bit. thats just enough for mild rage. You should then know what severe rage needs...