Ormë

...means "wrath, anger, violence, rushing" in Quenya.

I have a fuse. Really, it's not that short. I let it out in various ways in little burtst, trying hard not to cause people too much discomfort.

It just got completely and utterly burnt out.

As I've said, I seem to be on the unlucky end of an ugly stick called "Neighbours". I woke, this morning, first to the sound of that mother yelling at her kids, and then the kids yelling back. Managed to go to sleep again, but oh! Only for a short while. What happens next?
The kid opens her window and starts singing. LOUD. Not a bad voice, but dear, very loudly, a popular song from the radio (I'm sure, I think I've heard it played on a bus or somesuch). Well, fair enough, I've got to get up some time, and, it's almost midday anyway.

But the very thing of it. Disturbing your surroundings so utterly. It's not like we're the only house here, this is a bloody maze of houses.

Oh well, kids will be kids.

Then they started yelling come, come get candy! And then they were selling their hair. What made me actually flip was when they were starting to say "Oops, on their window!" That meant mine. "Oooh, let's hit their window!" And started throwing chewed candy and rubbish on my window. Now... I like my peace. I don't disturb my neighbours, to the extent that I let them make a ruckus in peace, and try to ignore it.
But I suppose it's just too much to expect from others the same.
And having been woken up so many times by these fucktards (yes, I am THAT angry at the moment) finally, I had HAD it. So when they kept throwing things, I tore the window open (making half the desk I sit at fly all the way across the room, since the window opens inwards) and screamed at them to fething stop it. Then I stomped up the stairs and rang on their door, but the parents were most apparently not at home. Then I had stomping (a lot. loudly) and giggling and I am going to be very good about this and have a serious and kind talk with them because guilt, as I learned, has some kind of better effect than yelling at kids. And I am also going to try and find the local authorities and file a complaint.
After all, from mine and foxling's apartment and the neighbour there, I've some experience in the matter...


I usually don't write these things here. I find I've been better at keeping my whining (part of the letting-out) away from here the past year or so. But just for once, I thought I'd let you see that there is rage in me that is never let out, and that rage suffocates me. It's been let out and if I thought I'd be free of the Unseelieness now for half a year, I was wrong. I am dark, I am a planning, scheming, shadow-wreathed bitch that opens her mouth only to utter well-thought words and will let that anger, that darkness out to a very violent or perhaps not violent, just one strike will do at times, end for someone.

A tiny part of me is desperately trying to steer me away from it, and is the only reason I am blowing my eardrums out with Raubtier (and I don't give a shite about if they're parody or not, they are singing about war, death and killing and I need it) instead of going postal on first the door, then the inhabitants upstairs.

But let's be honest, that's what they deserve. Temperance be fucked, I want things to break and to work my muscles in violence until I am exhausted.
Maybe I should call the Bastard after all. I do know where he lives...


(Yes. I know I need somewhere to let it out. Sparring and somewhere to pound my arms tired. But I haven't got that. I'm good. Don't worry. My selfcontrol is awesomely strong and no matter how weak its hold is now, it holds me like a rein holds a violent horse).