Temper Tantrums

Sometimes you just have to be angry.

I usually keep my temper under control, locking it away in a heavily-guarded vault somewhere in my head, because custom dictates that we converse politely with other people as far as possible. But there are times when the door of the vault gives way, and most of the frustration and the venom rushes out with all its ferocity. And as the old memories come back to haunt you, faithfully recalled by your over-efficient brain, you just have to let yourself loose.

I guess you deserved it.

At some point in life, your perception of the world undergoes a sea change and you begin to rethink your priorities. What used to be dreadfully important to you doesn't command even a fraction of your energy now. A deep-rooted dislike for a certain thing miraculously gives way to tolerance. Prejudice, bias, the preconceived notions that have been drilled into your skull right from the time when you were born seem baseless.

You change. You mature and take life into your own hands, refusing to believe the barrage of half-truths being thrust upon you by almost every person you happen to be acquainted with. The world can be cruel sometimes. It can gnaw at you, feeding on your darkest fears, consuming you like a parasite, until one day, there is nothing left inside you. Or it can deal fatal blow after fatal blow and knock you out cold in an instant. It can shove worthless advice into your face, in the hope that you make the mistake of believing it all and proceeding to your doom.

But sometimes, you survive. And once you look back on it all and laugh, you know that you've reached there. There are much more important things to worry about. Much greater losses to mourn.

And you charge ahead, like the brave warrior on his chariot staring straight ahead, not daring to look back. The winding path in front of you is uncertain. You have no map with you. No guide. Only yourself. And, in spite of all this newfound bravado, you can't help but feel a tad insecure. Apprehensive.

You have no idea how long you have. Or where you will end up.

Static

It was yet another rainy day. Cold, bitter and cruel.

The dull, grey skies were of no interest to the thousands of people who crawled the earth below, each preoccupied with his own worries; his own joys; his own grief. Some worried about their futures. Some worried about their jobs. And some worried about the next day's meal.

I could hear shouting. Loud, harsh voices. Shoving, pushing carelessly, they made their way through the crowd to their destination. And there was chatter. Incessant, unnecessary chatter. A sea of voices, waiting to be heard; wanting to be understood. The cars behind us honked. The rain lashed the earth with renewed ferocity, the wind threatening to uproot the trees that lined the street.

But then, you were there. And for that split second, the rain, the people, the voices, the cars, all of them disappeared into oblivion, leaving behind a lull of calm. A whisper of silence.

For that brief moment when time stood still, we were us once again.