There is a clock inside everyone, counting down the months, days, and hours until the fuse finally blows. No one is safe from this unexpected rage, no one.
"He is the friendliest person I know," is what everyone says about the boy currently sitting in front of his computer screen. He types away, replying to everyone else's cry for help. Maybe, one day, someone will help. He doubts that will ever happen. Everyone continues complains about their petty problems like "I got in a fight with my boyfriend," "No one likes me," and "My pet just died." He wonders if any of these people had to deal with divorce and death, human that is.
He decides to respond to one more person. Scroll through his direct messages on twitter, he clicks on the conversation with the most recent reply. The chick always seems to have a new problem every effing week, she really needs to get a grip. She sent about 7 messages in the last five hours, does she not understand that some people have a life?
Her last message read, "Just forget about it, I'll survive without telling anyone." The hell she will. "Anyways, sorry for disturbing you, I figure you have better things to do with your life."
He just couldn't take it anymore. Rage flowed out of him like a roaring river as he pounded at the keys. The damn 140 character limit slowed him down a bit, but he kept going.
The girl sat at home alone, she parents were always going out to the bar. Sometimes they came home drunk, telling her she was a mistake and how they should have got an abortion if they would have known. She sees a little one next to the envelope on twitter. She opens her direct messages and is met with something see expected to happen for a long time. She cried a little as she read the message.
It read, "Listen here, you little bitch. You have some new effing problem every effing week. If that wasn't bad enough, you always retract your request for help. You're just an attention seeking whore, aren't you? Well, fat ass, why don't you eat your troubles away like every other bitch in the world. I'm sick and tired of trying to help you." The message went on like that for quite a bit, but it was the last line that the girl's eyes lingered on. "If you can't get your life together, you should just kill yourself."
She whispered, "You just answered my questions and I won't be bothering you anymore." Before closing her computer, she sent a reply to the boy, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." She walked to the bathroom grabbed the bottle of pills from the medicine cabinet. She swallowed all the pills and slipped away.
The boy didn't think much of the girl's reply until school the next day. At the end of the announcements, the principal asked for a moment of silence for the girl who killed herself the night before. Everyone continued talking except that boy. What had he done? His anger had gotten the best of him and as a result the girl took her life. Rage lives in everyone and is just waiting to strike.