There's something strange about feeling your pulse in your temple. If you try to ignore it, it has the potential to turn into a throbbing migraine. If you focus on it, it just seems to beat louder and louder within your skull until all you seem to be able to hear is the pounding bass in your head.
Words. Cannot. Describe. This. Moment. In. Time. My only solace is that in 28 hours, 30 minutes, I shall be on my way out of town for a day of rest before returning to a life of stress and frustration. The time spent away will not be nearly enough. I've no clue when I'll have another opportunity to destress either. The amazing thing is that, while I may come across as angsty or frustrated here in my journal, I still maintain the capacity to be perfectly chipper and cheerful in conversation and in person. My body language gives away my actual feelings at the moment, but you'd never know unless you know how to read my body language well. I am Jack's seething rage hidden behind cold blue eyes.