That house was such a sad house. I wish I never knew it. In that house, there was never enough - it was a hard house with so much lack, aches and pain. There was never enough time. Never enough fun. Never enough happiness. Not enough money.

Because there was always never enough of anything, this house only knew how to speak one language. That language was anger. Anger from frustration. Anger from pain. Anger from poverty.

There was always enough anger to go around. More than enough anger. It was free and easy to give away. The house always had jars for storing anger and many times they were filled to the brim. The house has drums of outrage to go around and would do unthinkable damages.

The...