One night during dinner when I was 8 years old, my little brother started teasing me. I picked up a handful of spaghetti and flung it across the table at him. My face burned. My eyes stung with tears. I was close to popping him in the nose.
Sure it was an irrational move, and it only made the situation worse. But I didn’t care. He’d hurt my feelings, and I wanted to hurt him back.