I can feel the anger boiling within me. For the past couple of days, I have been careless, apathetic even. Some steam has been released, but not in a healthy way. These little outbursts were something I thought I had put behind me, but surprise! The outbursts, they are back, and they are unwelcome. Are they not? I try to act as so, but there is a sense of feeling like I am in my element, releasing what is necessary, despite the casualties—usually, the innocent and those that care for me the most. I know I am not supposed to lash out in anger, giving in to my demons. I know that when I give into my anger, I am only losing control of myself, and I am handing over all of my power to the ones that I would least want to have. I realize now, for the moment, that my anger is a product of my pathetic pride. With a mixture of anger and pride, things tend to become warped. Is it not insane how we justify our acts of terribleness to save face? What is face worth when the anger takes control? Every day I think I am more knowledgeable and that I harvest all of the possible answers to this impossible life within—the All-Knowing is what they should call me, I think, and then reality awakens me with a mighty slap in the face, reminding me that I am just as ignorant as the day before. I will never know all of the answers to living an entirely happy life. I just know that I am growing, ever so slightly, with each passing day. Be humble and be kind. Anger is the devil in disguise, which is probably why the anger feels so great, at least for the moment.