Keep a grudge.
Find the silence you so despise, wear it like a locket, like a memorial.
Let your eyes fade into the distance.
Let it rest on the screen that sits in your heart.
Flicks of pain and doubt, and words carelessly thrown across the room.
See the door flung open and slammed shut.
Feel your pulse racing, your mind screaming.
Clench your fist, stomp your feet.
Walk away, but only after you have picked the grudge, your favourite kind; the one you wear like a locket, like a memorial.
And when you are done, when you are all shriveled up, when time has poured out of your fingers, when it has slipped out of your grasp, remember that these things happen.
Pain and doubt, and words carelessly thrown across the room.
Remember, for the sake of the one who comes to you, young and eager with her rage, remember to tell the truth. That the grudge feeds the ego, but it doesn’t fix the heart.