"How fine you look when dressed in rage. Your enemies are lucky your condition is not permanent. You're lucky, too. Red eyes suit so few." (Cheshire Cat, American McGee's Alice)
I might be harboring a universe of mangled, unstable nerves inside of me, ready to supernova at the slightest provocation, but I will not become someone I hate. Wrath is a deadly sin, and of the seven, its sweetness lingers on my tongue. Pacify me when you see telltale signs of rage clouding my person. Remind me that I am not alone in this fight. Ignore me when I'm being neurotic.
That, or you can give me a hug.
