Shatterglass

Wednesday. 22:29

Must not smash cup. Brother made cup. Blew the glass himself. He’d notice if it was in fragments on the counter.

Set cup down. Slowly. There you go.

Pick up homework from the printer.

Walk. One foot in front of the other. Turn off lights. Dark. Dark is good. No one can see my face in the dark.

Walk up stairs. Don’t punch the walls. Don't punch the floor. Don’t punch the brother. He’d like that even less than if I broke his cup.

Room. Turn on light. Leave door open. Maybe I’ll read for a while. Haven’t had time to read for months. I should be sleeping. Have a test in Japanese tomorrow. Don’t care.

That’s it. I’ll read. Breathe. Let the anger sink down through my lungs. Let it seethe. Let it ferment. Let it build up until it explodes out some morning at my friends and my face will turn red and I’ll hit someone hard across the shoulder and I’ll bite clear through my lip trying to hold it all in. And it won’t change a thing.

Repeat.