You’re thirteen and strange and you’re feeling anger spill into you for the first time — feeling it bite the edges of your vision a gruesome red.
I know the way guilt floods through you. I know you’re afraid to show anything but that practiced grin that slicks your mouth like a knife.
It’s okay, you’re going to learn to accept the rage; to greet it on even ground and carry it in your gut, pulsating and spectacular.
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