Fury is an ugly filthy monster. I pretend my fury does not exist. I ignore it, down inside my dark recesses but today it got out. My calm exterior hid the boiling fury inside me. I casually hurt the one most dear to me. When the damage was done my son hated me and so did I.
Now I have to meet a client. I must pour oil onto my troubled waters. I must pretend I am happy and confident. I will be happy and confident. My converstion will be light because that is what is required of me. My lying will feed the pain I hide. The pain will look for a way to come up for air and when it breaks the surface I will be broken again.