I cannot easily remember a time when I have not been at the mercy of my temper. My earliest years were spent in tantrums, which destroyed many, if not all, of my childhood toys. My parents were at the end of their wits when I was a teenager- this madness that inflicted me would drive us to argument at a moments notice.

If, however, there was a force that influenced my actions more than my insatiable anger, it was my public image. I spent as much time as any lady preparing my hair and clothes in the morning, and my speech and manner were so tailored it is a wonder people did not believe them false. I suppose my parents were an outlet, in many ways, for my anger. As losing my temper in public would no doubt ruin the image I had cultivated among my peers, I spent the day storing my anger inside me, much like a corked up tea kettle would. This emotion, I would unleash upon my parents as soon as I arrived home.

And it was this madness again that drove me from my home in England. You see, I had, for the majority of my mature years, fancied my neighbor, a girl by the name of Sophie Fletch. Sophie Fletch was pale and lovely, and possessed eyes of the deepest blue, a color which no ocean could summon a hue more beautiful. Upon returning from college, I set upon myself the task of wooing Sophie. After many months of courtship, I was successful.

At first we were like two robins in the spring. We were inseparable; every event, every outing, every action which took place, we always accompanied the other. Our love was having a beneficiary effect on me as well. I no longer felt as susceptible to my fits of madness as before, and my eternal thirst for public recognition had been quenched slightly. Do not suspect, however, that these two faults of mine had dissipated entirely; they still compromised a large part of my private character.

Unfortunately, after many years, I began to suspect Sophie of unfaithfulness. Though these charges bore no evidence, beyond our failure to produce a child, I would drive myself to wildness thinking that there was even the slightest possibility that she considered me incompetent.

Thus, when I found Sophie and her friends exiting the local theatre, giggling and whispering to each other, I convinced myself that they must have been conversing about me. They were not aware of my presence until I called Sophie’s name loudly from the crowd now exiting from the theatre. There was a silence at once- such was the nature of my voice- and all eyes turned to me. I dread to think of what loathing and evil Sophie saw when she gazed into my eyes that evening.