Fury was a friend for a very long time. Came as soon as something felt bad. As soon as someone hurt me. Or I felt like I was slighted. Fury lived inside me so long there was little space for love and logic.
Fury rose when I felt tired. Fury at my husband. At my son. I felt like shaking him when he wouldn't listen.
And yesterday he was a brat. Annoying. Irritating. And I did get mad at him. And was firm with him. But I didn't feel fury. Sherrin pissed me off today. And I yelled and fumed. But I didn't feel fury.
Today I felt angry and mad. But no fury.
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