I would blame my father for my temper, my mother for my thin skin and my children for rousing me to anger.
But none of them are me.
My judgments, my assents, they are what create a rolling boil from a cold pot. I continually make the leap to feeling hurt by what others say and do.
I do not want this, so I will not choose it. But I am fallable and I know the base part of me will hurt those around me that I love again. And it will hurt my character.
But I will continue to stand at my post, bleeding from whatever hurt I have inflicted on my soul. And I will say again, I will not choose this.