The performance unfolds as the blue eyed young boy takes center stage. His angry tantrum becomes a poignant soliloquy, a performance that captures the essence of human passion and expression.

With the flair of a seasoned actor, the child embarks on a dramatic display of discontent. The air fills with the sound of wailing cries and the staccato of tiny feet stomping in a rhythmic dance of defiance. Each flail of the arms, a masterful stroke of the conductor's baton, orchestrating an invisible symphony of raw emotion.

The audience watches with bated breath as the child's performance crescendos. A thrown toy becomes a symbolic gesture, a release of the inner turmoil that words cannot express. The furrowed brow and clenched fists, a brilliant touch to the intensity of the role being played. Tears fall like silent testaments to the emotional storm that rages within.

This is no mere outburst; it is an articulation of the human condition, a moment where the boundaries of communication are both challenged and transcended. The child, in their unfiltered expression, reminds us all of the power of feeling and the universal language of emotion that connects us all.

As the performance concludes, the child's energy wanes, and the curtain falls on the tempest of the heart. The audience is left to reflect on the profound message delivered through such a seemingly simple act. In this beautiful fit of rage,, we find a mirror to our own souls, a reminder of the beauty that lies in the honesty of our most primal reactions.

May we allow this brilliantly bittersweet performance to grant us peace, and perhaps bring to us the comfort of knowing that there is no shame in cradling the inner child that resides within us all.

Once upon a time, in a bustling city, there lived a young woman named Emily. Times were tough, and she decided to rent out the spare bedroom in her cozy flat to make ends meet. Little did she know that this decision would lead to a series of peculiar encounters, each tenant bringing their own unique personality and development arc into her life.

1. The Eccentric Artist: The first tenant to arrive was an eccentric artist named Oliver. With his vibrant clothing and wild hair, he brought a burst of creativity into Emily’s life. Initially, she found his unconventional habits and constant mess frustrating. However, as time went on, she discovered that his artistic spirit was contagious. Oliver taught Emily to embrace her own creativity and see beauty in unexpected places.

2. The Meticulous Perfectionist: Next came Martha, a meticulous perfectionist. She had a knack for cleanliness and organization. At first, Emily found Martha’s constant need for order stifling, but gradually, she realized the importance of balance. Martha’s attention to detail taught Emily the value of structure and discipline, helping her become more organized in her own life.

3. The Introverted Bookworm: The third tenant, Michael, was an introverted bookworm. He preferred the company of books over people and spent most of his time in his room engrossed in literature. Emily initially struggled to connect with him, but her persistence paid off. Michael introduced her to the world of literature, expanding her horizons and teaching her the power of empathy and imagination.

4. The Free-Spirited Adventurer: As fate would have it, Emily’s fourth tenant was a free-spirited adventurer named Amelia. She had traveled the world and had countless stories to share. Amelia’s carefree nature and lust for life initially clashed with Emily’s more reserved personality. However, as they spent time together, Emily learned to step out of her comfort zone and embrace new experiences, discovering the joy of spontaneity.

5. The Wise Elder: The final tenant to arrive was Mr. Johnson, an elderly gentleman with a wealth of wisdom. He had lived a long and fulfilling life, and his stories captivated Emily’s imagination. Mr. Johnson became a mentor figure, teaching her valuable life lessons and reminding her of the importance of cherishing each moment. Through their conversations, Emily learned to appreciate the wisdom that comes with age and to embrace the beauty of growing older.

Through the peculiar tenants who came and went, Emily’s life was enriched in ways she never imagined. Each character brought their own unique personality and development arc, showcasing a myriad of personalities in one story. From the eccentric artist to the meticulous perfectionist, the introverted bookworm to the free-spirited adventurer, and the wise elder, Emily’s journey taught her valuable life lessons, broadened her perspectives, and ultimately transformed her into a more open-minded and compassionate individual.

Once upon a time, in a whimsical world filled with the unexpected, there lived a little boy named Oliver. Now, Oliver was no ordinary child. He possessed a remarkable talent for transforming the most mundane situations into captivating spectacles of theatrical proportions.

On this particular day, Oliver embarked on his grandest performance yet: The Incredible Tantrum Symphony. Donning a pair of mismatched socks and a cape fashioned from bedsheets, he strutted into the living room, armed with all the pent-up frustration a six-year-old could muster.

As the overture of his tantrum began, Oliver looked around, his piercing eyes scanning the room to ensure an audience worthy of his artistic genius. And there they were, his parents, his little sister, even the family dog, all eagerly awaiting the opening act.

With a deep breath, Oliver let out a melodramatic sigh, setting the stage for what was to come. He knew that timing was crucial, and he had meticulously rehearsed every element of his performance. From the synchronized stamping of his feet to the rhythmic clenching and unclenching of his fists, each motion was executed with the precision of a seasoned actor.

The music that accompanied his antics was the grand symphony of wails, punctuated by intermittent screams. Oliver had committed the entire composition to memory, ensuring he hit every high note with dramatic flair. The crescendos of his shrieks echoed through the halls, undoubtedly striking fear into the hearts of all who heard.

But what truly set Oliver's tantrum apart was his impeccable comedic timing. Just when the audience thought they were witnessing the pinnacle of his emotional outbreak, he seamlessly transitioned into an entirely new phase. His quivering lip gave way to exaggerated gasps for breath, followed by an outpouring of crocodile tears fit for any Shakespearean tragedy.

The onlookers were spellbound, their eyes glued to the spectacle unfolding before them. Oliver, in turn, cast furtive glances in their direction, making sure to maintain eye contact with each person. After all, his performance was not complete if he did not savor the mixture of alarm, confusion, and stifled laughter on their faces.

As the final notes of the Incredible Tantrum Symphony drew near, Oliver knew it was time for his grand finale. With one last earth-shattering wail, he flung himself onto the floor in a display of absolute dejection. The room fell silent, the audience holding their breath for what would come next.

And then, with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, Oliver sprang back to his feet, revealing a sly grin that could rival the Cheshire Cat's. His masterpiece was complete — the audience erupted in uproarious laughter, applauding his absurdity and embracing the hilarity of the moment.

Oliver had successfully transformed a simple tantrum into an artistic performance that would be spoken of for ages to come. His cue was perfect, his comedic timing impeccable, and his ability to turn irrationality into pure entertainment was nothing short of extraordinary.

And as Oliver basked in the applause of his captive audience, he knew deep down that he was destined for greatness in the world of theater, even if it all started with an irrational tantrum.

Tears streaming on demand An injustice I can’t withstand Joy stolen Heart broken Pained to the core My breadstick is no more Once whole now lost Hopes and dreams tossed Due to division With precision Physical separation I cannot eat a thing that’s in two Good thing I can cry on cue I’ll give you my twopence Where would be the sense The point They should be joint I’m so offended God had not intended My saviour did not permit For my carbs to be split It’s left me fuming Prior to my consuming Their crunchy goodness Which are lacking wholeness A watershed moment in my young life I will now scream to express my strife

the sound of drums pounding on the wall
Faint screams dance behind when will it stop cries drown my heart with sorrow I sway away my pride I’m sorry

She threw her hands like the wind carried each bone. Gracefully her feet followed her hands, in a game of tag. Left, right, left. She dropped to the floor, pounding with raw fire. She felt the dance in her heart. In her soul. She’s determined to continue this dance until she succeeds.

(I wrote a poem mixing my favourite quotes- here are the original quotes arranged in a manner that describes this, at least for me)

When you’re not fed love on a silver spoon you learn to lick it off knives

Does your god have as many teeth as me?

The devil wrapped in silk is still the devil

If I can’t be better than them I will become so much worse

Nothing ever ends poetically. It ends and we turn it into poetry. All that blood was never once beautiful. It was always just red

It is possible to carry life in death in the same sentence. In the same body. It is possible to carry love and pain

Interpret these as you will, this is more a child’s frustration than anything else. But perhaps people thought I was tantruming. Who knows

Look at that expression There’s no hesitation Kicking of the feet Like there’s no way of defeat Then the guttural screams For no reason it seems Followed by the sobbing Those tears are throbbing The fists are pounding There’s no rebounding Then the performance is over Til the next time, moreover. Tessa🦋

i look into my sisters eyes as she’s scolded nobody listens to her you’re being crazy go to your room she refuses strong girl screams so piercing i’d think she meant to deafen them and i hope she will maybe they’ll listen more then

"Stop touching it!"

The child's screaming echoed through the house while her mother and father attempted to calm her down. She was sobbing. Her small hands pounded on the table where a small puzzle sat. It was almost finished, every piece was laid out or put together.

"Hunny, all your father was doing was helping you with your puzzle."

She screamed more. She didn't want help with her puzzle. She wanted to do it alone. She wanted to show her parents that she was independent. She wanted them to be proud of her. But that couldn't happen if she had help. She doesn't need help