I find myself flooded with an anger I thought I had left behind long ago. Drowning in a fear that never really truly let me go; floating in a resolute disillusion that no magician could ever match. I feel the tic in my hands and itch through my knuckles as the urge to hit out grows ever stronger. The desire and impulse to feel the sting and tearing of skin as my fist hits a brick wall is almost enticing. Yet I have never known why as the pain and shame that follow the aftermath is all most enough to condemn me to the darkest recesses of my psyche. For now I can contain it, just, but for how long I just don’t know.