They are Real

One of those days where it wouldn't even bother you if the monster in your closest were real. One of those days where you want the Boogie Man to come out from under your bed. It is one of those days where I might even greet him and shake his hand. One of those days where I could just as easily kill him without, even a slight hesitation. One of those days where if you were handed the world, you would crush it beneath your grasp. A day where your moral compass doesn't even have a needle. You, I, Me. I forget who I am talking about. You forget who I am talking about. It makes little difference, for the feeling has been felt, in different ways, or exactly the same. Anger: a human impulse, dirty, loathsome, uncontrollable. And now I understand why it would not bother me if they were real.