Moments. I'm built up by moments. They surround me, shape me, create and recreate who I've become. A rainy day. The trip. One class. Many hours badly spent. But these don't make it into the frame.

Your blame. The rage. My guilt. These are the intances that outline my life. Micro moments. You see, tiny ones that flee. They flash before I can fully understand or become aware of their existence. On their own they stand as harmless, ineffective, deficient. Their accumulation is what creates the pain. They made me. I allowed them to be fleeting to deflect the hurt they flashed because I didn't want to bother. It was easier to let them pile up. But now they are clear, readable, traceable and they've lead me here to this moment, to that comma and this period. Moments that raised my walls and alarmed my defences.

So many little moments that build up the rage.