I don’t get angry but my wrath is terrible. It is like a cold rage, which, if it could be materialized, would look like a blue flame. It feeds on me, my mental strength. It feels like I could kill a person with nothing but my gaze. This is that side of me, which I try to suppress all the time but I think that while trying to suppress it, I have fed it more energy, more thoughts, and have made it much stronger, much fearsome, much more terrible. The irony is only those whom i love the most have witnessed it.