There’s a dark well. A well you go to, to draw water from when you’re angry. You know the water is toxic, poisonous even, but you still do. Because you can’t help it. Sometimes the anger is too substantial, too overpowering, that things like reasoning lose all significance. You stand just outside it, peer down… and you’re scared. Scared of the water. What if it burns you, leaves you suffering and afflicted? What if it leaves you scarred, not physically but emotionally? And, in doing so, marks you as its own?

But the thing is, you need that water. Because the poison it carries will be your liberation. It will, in a strange and inexplicable way, heal you from the cut you endured all those years ago as a child; the cut that still stings you, sending a current of pain through you, long after you’ve grown into adulthood.

How do you stop yourself from taking a deep, long sip of that corrupted water?