My temper's still been quick, all it takes is literally one mistook word and I start screaming. At that point, I feel like I can't control my noise level. It just skyrockets and I continually take it down again, and it just builds in a few words and I can't shut up. If you yell back, I yell louder. And I talk like a sailer. Recently I've started calling my little brother "fag". Which is something I personally have never accepted from myself. I thought I had better standards. It just comes out though.
I had A block. It was better because I didn't have the pressure of knowing it was ONLY A BLOCK, I still had the rest of the day to get through. I came home and slept a long time on the couch. I had a dream about being locked on a work farm with my mom and a bunch of people who could be murderers. Most notably one whom looked like Filch from Harry Potter and scared the living **** out of me. I woke up shaking and warm and having trouble breathing. The thing is, my precautions in my dream were to close and lock all doors, get away from everybody, and protect my mom. Run away and die in the woods rather than instantly by some slight of hand.
Mother made me food, I was so excited. I watched Girl, Interupted. Then I went to Steve's. Then out to dinner. The bump on his leg will get better now, I'm confident.