I lament the fact that I am hulk. For things appear unmanageable to me. Midway the creation of my castle, a brick was placed in the wrong direction. A fury emerged in me, for this brick is not the first, but perhaps the fifth, who would count? The constructor once again attempted to disguise himself. But it is not the fact that he did not assume his responsibilities that triggered my self-metamorphosis, or Mr. Hyde persona, but the fact that his emotions were hieroglyphics in the midst of a world whose emotions are as predictable as paper in ink. He was so vulnerable in a way not willing to lament, but to be lamented. He was impulsive, and the effect his action had on him was idiosyncratically unplanned, as he began shaking his legs in an upright direction. Additionally, my castle had to begin its re-construction due to the misplacement of such brick by the constructor. Meanwhile, I recognize that there are greater conflicts occurring throughout the world, which include those in the overly mentioned Africa, nonetheless, one has to adjust itself to those problems we can control, as, an individual cannot attempt to devote their own preoccupation to other conflicts that will be uncontrollable to them in their overall. Therefore, my castle’s re-construction did indeed have a great effect on me, as did the constructor’s response to his action, he whose efforts had indeed contributed to the castle, but whose errors were loose leaf pages that belonged to a book, forgotten.
My feelings blasted upon my corporeal surface in all directions. Some brutally collided with others, creating massive bomb-like bodies that were as vulnerable as the constructor. These feelings prompted a change in my skin color, as such turned into a shade of bright olive green that resembled the conjugation of thoughts in my head. I blasted my voice into the constructor’s face, who was unwilling to accept his mistake. As lightning bolts, my thoughts turned into words, the massive bomb-like bodies burst out of my organism in unthinkable ways. And I knew I was no good. The explosions provided me no satisfaction of my own, and in failed attempts to feel more content by ironically adding to my misdemeanor and self-conscious guilt, I said unimaginable words, which truly possessed no meaning to me, to the constructor.
He was irritated, despondent, depressed; perchance a mixture of all, which added to not only his own vulnerability, but my “I-will-crush-you-extravaganza.”
Eventually, the castle was once again re-constructed and my skin had long turned to its original color. The constructor walked past by and smiled. He had been impulsive and vulnerable. For I knew I was not a good person, for I knew his intentions were better than mine. For I knew I was impulsive and vulnerable as well. For I knew we were similar. But I am hulk, and my responses have a greater impact than his. For I knew I had to be even more sorry than he was.