The Ocean

She glared out at the ocean.
Not the waves, foaming over the sand and rushing backwards as another took it's place.
She stared further out. It was a deep purple colour; the angry swells tipped with the same white foam that capped the- by comparison- baby waves lapping the shore she sat on.
She had always loved the sea. Each time she came here the water somehow mimicked her eratic moods. She was here now to burn off her anger, and it was working. Not in the way most people would hope. No, her anger now was subsiding, making way for something bigger. and she would wait here until she forgot the reason for such rage. She knew it wasn't safe to be around people while she was like this. Previous experience had taught her that much.
So she ran her fingers through the sand. It was still warm, thought the sun had almost set. Another wave crashed heavily on the sand, and another wave of fury pulsed through her. Most of the things she regretted in life had happened when she was angry. Her anger was much greater than anyone else she had ever come across though. Relationships always ended in a fit of rage, all her decision. Friends had been lost too, plenty of them. It was hard enough making friends, but keeping them was a whole other story. Because it wasn't just her negative emotions that were amplified. Positive feelings too grasped her and held her tight. So she had stopped making friends. She simply felt too much to function the way everyone around her seemed to. It was apparent to everyone. Her friends were too hard to handle- she worried about them and praised them as though they were her own children.
She often marveled at how it was quite miraculous that she wasn't a serial killer. From the movies she had seen, all the right personality boxes were ticked.