IRIS CORTEZ
For how long are you going to keep it all bottled up? the question posed at me by my subconsciousness that chose to creep in when I least expected it caught me off guard and elicited a frown from me.
The anger that brewed within me tripled in folds, swirling like a volcano that threatened to consume me and I found myself tearing my boxing gloves off my hands, and tossing them into the laundry basket.
Sweat trickled down my face, drenching the thick material of my sports bra and I found myself peeling off the small material, followed by my joggers. I threw both of them into the hamper, stomping into the bathroom to take a shower.
I knew staying too long in the shower would leave me dwelling on the thoughts I desperately wanted to shove into the deepest part of my mind. The
