A few days ago, I had coffee with a friend, the best kind of friend, the kind that asks you huge questions like “What are you most afraid of these days Anne?” I went into myself to feel this question, and I stared at him for a little while. Then, from this ache in my chest, I said: “I am afraid of what my anger can do.” His question came toward the end of our time together, so after he left, I sat there by myself in a hot mess of emotions (Thanks a lot Nick ; ) but really, thank you ) and this is what I wrote...

I remember rage, in Grade 10. I was in Quebec city with my basketball team playing a tournament game against an all-girl private school team, and they were vicious. When the refs weren’t looking, they’d trip us on purpose and throw elbows in the rib cage any chance they had. None of the coaches were seeing what was happening, and I remember just steaming inside. I’d never experienced anything like that. Then, in the last...