A tantrum is the bottom layer. Mostly, tantrums stay buried beneath a careful scaffolding of socialization. You hide, grateful for the conventions that gradually encase you, the interwoven vines like a strangler fig, supportive and unyielding at the same time.
A tantrum is the unfiltered id that is at best embarrassing and at worst criminal. It’s the way you express yourself when no one else matters. It’s the steel edge of selfish disregard.
On occasion, a tantrum can be a lifesaver. There are people who deserve to experience your tantrum. You know the ones. The rules don’t apply to them. When you’ve had it, with the best of intentions, you can let them have it. Sometimes they listen and even if they don’t, you’ve put them on notice.