"Getting angry" a writing exercise

I walk through these halls every day, and every day is the same. It’s as if the clock stops for a second, just a mere second, and decides to change that one second for me. Playing with time is dangerous and I’m waiting for that one eventful day when I won’t be able to smoothen out that one second’s aftermath. Because of that one changed second’s fault, I change. I get angry as if I remember these halls were never friendly first. That they’re here and they’ve finally reminded me my happiness only exists for half a day every day. The rest of the half is the aftermath of a clock that decided my day is one second too much, and that second must be punished. 

I get angry. It’s a sign to stand up, to leave these now unkind halls. So I don’t spread my anger. That’s why I get up and walk away. I ignore of what the clock and its second wants me to feel forever. It slowly goes away. However, I’m waiting for that unmerciful day that one second will blow me and my happiness away. This day is not the one, so all I can do is get out of here and keep my anger in until I cool down, because today, I can and I will do so.