There are two types of anger.
Or, perhaps, there are more. But you are not really one for anger, usually, so for now you have only experienced two.
Maybe types is not the right word.
Maybe stages is better.
That first flare of heat and action. Muscles tensing, blood pumping. You can feel adrenaline coursing through your veins, fingers curled tight into fists.
If someone gave you a baseball bat you would not hesitate to swing.
You shout at everything, every little irritation, cursing the way you’ve only ever seen others do before. You punch at inanimate objects and scrape your knuckles, another flare of rage pushing you to greater heights.
The second is when you don’t come down.
This has never happened to you.
Usually, after an outburst, you’ve expelled your anger. Nothing left but shredded skin and tiny bleeds already beginning to scab over. Usually a scream or two is all it takes, a walk where the air can cool down your flush and your temper as well.
This time there is no catharsis.
This time your anger coils in on itself, impotent, unable to be released. Your anger ferments and steeps like the worst cocktail, like poison now, the adrenaline twisting your nerves, the tension in your head ratcheting more and more.
You’ve been angry for so long you’re sick of it. Exhausted. And yet you can’t seem to stop.
Welcome to stage two.
A/N: surprisingly on the nose for the word prompt, considering my track record with them… sorry this is unrelated to yesterday’s posts, but I’m glad to see so many people enjoyed that one