A Collection of Thoughts

Frustration: Personified

   They are notorious for ripping out throats. For baring their teeth sharpened by the bones of false villains. Always, they fester. Exasperation wells up in their esophagus from the boiling pit that is their stomach. A snarl is furrowed within the collar of their heavy coat, their acidic saliva burning holes through the fabric. At dinner, fists bulging with pulsing veins pound the table top. Silverware flies while glass shards scatter. Their sharp voice barks harsh nothings to minor inconveniences.

   The horn of their steering wheel is well worn from many traffic jams and slow moving vehicles. Scars of past facial lacerations lay next to a nose broken in multiple spots, a result of a mouth unable to contain its own heat. At the office, their cubicle is avoided at all costs. Sticky notes cover the entire frame of the monitor. Different coffee mugs filled with varying ages of liquids line the desk. They sit tense with aggravation in their swivelling chair, cursing under their breath. They would love nothing more than to light fire to the mounds of endless paperwork they see on a day to day basis. They have developed a divine form of hatred towards the water jug at the end of the hallway. The incessant chatter of their coworkers remains taxing.

   The commute home is a boiling one. Frustration festers alone in their one bedroom apartment. Medicine cabinets are full of empty toothpaste tubes and expired pharmaceuticals. The kitchen sink overflows with chinese take out boxes, and the countertops are stacked with mounds of bowls. Frustration grits their teeth as they balance upon a home life full of disarray. Yet every night, they find their way under the covers. Their burning skin cools as their racing minds flutter through the day. The venom on their tongue subsides as their own intensity forces them to wilt. Their tears burn, singeing their cheeks and eating holes through their pillow as they travel. Frustration thinks about how many people they had hurt that day by simply just being themselves. They know they are wrong. They want nothing more than to stop being who they are. But they can't. And because of that, Frustration can't be more frustrated with anyone but themselves.