Anxiety is a loaded gun. Once provoked, you **** the gun.
Your emotions crescendo as you pace the floor with your finger on the trigger.
You anticipate the moment you have the chance to pull it.
As pressure builds the tension rises, building and gathering.
POP!
A flash of light as your anger is released.
Your stress has reached its ******.
That split second can influence the rest of your life.
The trigger has been pulled.
You feel a sense of exhilaration.
Energy is finally released.
The ammo hurdles out at untamable speeds, obliterating everything in its path.
The damage is done, and can’t be taken back.
Hurting yourself is the least of your worries as you start to see the pain you've inflicted on others.
The recoil leaves you tender and vulnerable, Open to the repercussions.
Even after all has calmed the smoke will linger on as a horrific memory of an unforgettable scene of mayhem.
As you try to fix the wounds of others you notice yours start to weaken and worsen.
How could you let such a doltish petty thing effect the life of you and the lives of others?