Frustration builds up in the pit of the stomach. Frustration with work, with people, with little things I can't change. It festers deep inside 'till it get putrid, then explodes like a volcano and my mouth can't stop the eruption. Words fly out like projectiles and I'm unable to hold them, to mute them, to close my mouth and swallow them back. They burn like lava and hurt the closest one, the dearest one, the only one who dares standing by in times like this.Maggie is that silent force which endures all my eruptions, absorbs them and turns them into regret.
I'm so sorry, Love.
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