Dear Me Five Years Ago,
I am angry. 
I have never been the one to hold a grudge. Never. 
My anger was always brief, fleeting. I was the one who always forgive and forget. 

But not now. 
Not anymore.

I am angry. I hate you. I hate them. 
I hate everything in my life that made me feel like this, I can't stop it. 
I can feel it my heart, in my bone. It is coiling around my torso, like a serpent. And it is waiting for the way when it would strike against its biggest enemy, me. I am glad that it is there. Surely it means that I am healing, right? It must be better than when I felt nothing at all.