I bleed out my soul in sound, sewing sweet melodies into the air, where they gently gloss over raw wounds, soothingly singing to them. Then I trace the lines of my new scars with a pen and create words for my angst, for my fears and tears and troubles, and find strength and bliss in deluding myself that pain is temporary.

Breathe

Blast rock music

Scream with those artists

until your throat is raw

Pound out your feelings

on the keyboard

Write write write

Sing sing sing

Rest

Curl up under an electric blanket

Cuddle a bee Pillowpet

Sip at some hazelnut coffee

Watch some animes

Laugh

Cry

Calm

I tighten my bow, and watch the rosin dust twist and fall as I apply it to the horse hairs. I screw in the knobs on my music stand, and put a new waltz, or song on the stand. I tune my violin, and I play. My fingers playing a fast song, rushing from string to string. My bow going back and forth playing each note. My thoughts escaping me as I play the songs. I play songs by ear, or by sheet music. I play fast songs, or slow. I just sit back, and play.

Sometimes, especially on occasions when I'm left to clear up someone else's cock up, I get so busy that my own work suffers, and when that happens I do tend to erupt.

I'm only human after all, but I am my worst enemy when I lose it - everything goes out the window and I just don't give a damn.

Mount Yowwa is in the process of erupting, covering everyone and everything within a two mile radius in bile and bad vibes.

That's when I need to calm down, so I find a quiet place, have a cup of tea and just spend five minutes gathering my thoughts and zoning my emotions back to calm waters.

It works every time.