i wrote this today

[anabelle7321]

There is sadness and sorrow that grabs ahold of you like nothing ever has before, these cold, stealthy fingers of solitude that seep around your insides and won't let go, that freeze themselves to your bones until they are a part of you. Then they solidify, fossilize into a fury more powerful than what you imagine a god's to be. Most anger burns inside you, simmering behind your eyes, and rips its way to the surface. It burns hot and fast and sudden, but not this anger. Not this. This anger is cold and haughty and detached, this anger is frozen in its power and in its potency. This is the anger that stretches to a breaking point, that is the tension in a violing string and the coldness of a shimmering steel scalpel. It becomes a part of you, of what you give to the world, it is what shimmers behind the eyes of people who have something left to prove, something to do, a score to settle. You snap at strangers, hold friends at arm's length and you live for the anger. You carress it, relive it, shape it, mold it, nurture the icy tendrils growing round you, taking hold of you because the anger is what you know, what you love and what you fear. You live for it because it lives for you.
..............................................................

and this is what i could have been.
i'm glad that i have love instead.