I have little time to speak now. The supervisor that asks alot of me wants me to stay on a friday night...again. I demand satisfaction from this stress. I can't stand it some days...the incessant reminders, criticism, demeaning remarks. I am young and arrogant, perhaps clouded, but I wish he and I could figure out a better way of communicating. Sometimes I wish I could lash out, releasing part of that roiling ball within me that sparks and spits tongues of flames, devours tracks of me in the sweet relish I would have in releasing it to consume whomever had pissed me off. But no, desist...keep it away from others, use it as back-up reserves when need be. Oh but if this world allowed the full rage of mortal men to be unleashed in some fashion creative, how sweetly nauseating it would be. One could lose oneself in such artistic persistence.