I had this moment today, just now, like a few hours ago, and it's rattling me in a way I haven't felt since… well, since before the kids were born, probably. I was at the library (yes, the library, where I spend half my life pushing a stroller between the picture books and pretending to browse the adult fiction I'll never have time to read). There was this woman in front of me in the checkout line, just a regular person, you know? Kinda mousy, glasses, holding a stack of those big print novels. And all of a sudden, out of nowhere, from some dark corner of my brain that I didn't even know existed, I pictured myself just SCREAMING at her. Like, full-on, ear-splitting, a string of the most HORRIBLE, offensive, vile insults you can imagine. (I won't even type them, they're so bad.) Just totally unprovoked, absolute verbal assault. And then, silence, like it never happened. The thing is, it felt... real. Like I could almost TASTE the bile in my throat. And I just stood there, clutching my library card, staring at the back of her head, completely frozen. My heart was pounding, and I could feel the blood rushing to my ears. Who IS that person inside me? The one who conjures up such nastiness for no reason at all? I'm supposed to be… I *am* a good person. A mom. I read bedtime stories. I bake cookies (sometimes they burn, but still). I volunteer at the school. I smile at strangers. I’m the *librarian*, for crying out loud (even if it's just a temporary, stay-at-home-parent kind of librarian, you get me?). But there she was, this absolute monster, just waiting to rip someone apart. It wasn't even a thought, really, more like an image, a visceral, electric shock of pure, unadulterated rage. And for a second, a terrifying second, it felt good. (God, that's the worst part, isn't it?) Are we all like this? Are we all just walking around with these secret, violent, ugly selves tucked away? Like, you see someone smiling in the grocery store, and you think you know them, but really they've just suppressed some primal urge to... (I don't know, steal all the candy bars?) What if this is what happens when you spend too much time alone, when your whole identity becomes "so-and-so's mom" and your greatest achievement of the day is getting everyone to eat their veggies? Does it just start to curdle inside you, all that unspoken, unseen frustration? It feels like a fundamental human flaw, this chasm between the self we present and the bubbling swamp underneath. And I just stood there, thinking, *what if I just… let go?* What then? It freaks me out. I still feel it, buzzing under my skin. Like, right now. I just needed to say it out loud (or type it into the void).