I was told recently on
multiple occasions, I am a very angry person. It kinda hit me like a box
of rocks because it was someone I am intimate with and it led to the
observation that my anger is a part of the problem with my relationship with
unsaid individuals. As much of the case with my writing, this individual
is a sum of many individuals I hold close relationships with.
I am angry.
Last I looked anger is a human emotion. Granted, I am not prone to blow
shit off, as it goes I am also not prone to snap on people either. Over
the years I have invested a lot of time into trying to figure out a way not
manage anger but rather foreshadow it for the benefit of others who might have
to deal with my less then savory moods. I’ve probably tried with less
then Vulcan results to manage my anger, create a emotional HMO of managed
emotional car e. There is a process, a waiting period and numerous forms
to fill out before I even authorize a release form for my anger management.
When a person
tries as hard as I do to not only limit the impact of anger or any other
emotions, even being happy or excited, there is a certain feeling of
justification when a mood does finally arise. If I am angry or angry
with you-there is a distinct difference in the two- it is only after I feel as
If I have either been taken advantage of or that my well being was neglected
in the case of being mad at someone.
My former
roommate and friend who I grew to truly love and bond with, fell from my grace
in a string of events which led to us no longer, living together, no longer
talking and no longer, it seems interacting. It was not really my
choice, but considering the personal loss I’ve experienced in the
relationship, I guess I should consider myself lucky.
I have always
tried to tell people what bothers me. The things I don’t like and my
likely response to certain situations…After I tend to seethe, emotion it
seems hangs like humidity and sticks to people in that uncomfortable way that
only someone who has experienced the Georgia summer can relate to. I guess
that has been my system, outline, explain, warn, warn again, after that fuck
it. I do nut up, you signed the disclaimer, I am definitely much
better then my mother, who just seems to nut up on demand. I have also
been accused of denial and justification of my moods and interactions by
comparing myself to others who are worse then I. For the record I make
this contention of my peers here.
I don’t write
to justify my slant or to just explain why I’m right. I try to compose
a snapshot of the situation and how I respond to said situations. The
situations I try to make as neutral and honest as possible, my slant, well my
slant is my slant right? It’s my story.
My structured method of expressing myself and containing my emotion is
one in which I have tried to spare people from what I felt was a reaction
response to the ways in which we discommunicate with each other. As I
thread my writing with this web site, I’m almost tired, my poetry does not
express or completely communicate, but it does resonate. My words are
misunderstood and somehow the intensity of my emotions are also just inflicted
on the innocent as well?
I’m suddenly
coming to the conclusion that I’m a twenty seven year old, hack writer who
dwells on the human condition, which everyone understands, no one wants to
resolve and we just move on right?
My stomach is
churning, my head is swimming and my lower back hurts, all physical
contributors to my bad mood. I hate getting angry, it is a almost
useless emotion except for fueling rage and the desire to destroy things,
anger is a shortcoming to reason and process. Anger is better then
depression and maybe after years of being bored of depression and writing of
depression in my work, my new leaf is anger. You let so much slip and go
by and on the occasion you stop people and tell them what does bother you,
what is on your approved list of “Shit which will anger me when you do it”
they ignore you. They cry foul when you do finally pull out your hair
and scream.
They shrink
back, eyes wide, fear heavy on their scent and they whisper to you in low
tones, cause that’s what you do when someone nuts up on you….whisper in
soothing tones while you think ‘This nigga has lost his mind, has a gun and
is very upset with me’
Usually when I
write of the emotional things which bug me a sense of calm hangs around me and
I can go back to my routine of managing my emotions and trying not to nut up
on people. But I ask and I think I give more then most-Much like the
pharmaceutically balanced people of this world, who are prone to articulate
their lives ups and downs. Who give detailed, yet brief outline of how
their life has been fucked up from the list. Usually incorporating at
least three things as being the harbinger which brought them to a new life of
pharmaceutical balance, a firm belief in therapy and the deep rooted life
confessionals, to complete strangers mind you.- that when I express something
which bugs me, I really mean it bugs me, that it will make me angry, that
right then and there we can negotiate some kind of middle ground. I do
not nut up. I am angry and I’m proud to be angry when it is time, because it
is a managed anger. My anger is honest and from the heart, it’s not
meant to hurt, it’s meant to say you’re hurting me, you’re doing
something I don’t like and it always preceded with warning signs,
explanations and fluid communication which warn of it.
This is what it
comes down to, how far do I have to go out of my way to explain repeatedly
what bothers me, when most people would have just secretly seethed or just
nutted up with no warning?
When people
bitch about things they can resolve, i.e the things people in there
relationships do to them that they don’t like the outcome is always the
same…eventually you too will nut up. And you think I’m so different
or maybe because somehow I skip the bitching part and just tell you upfront
what bothers me that I’m angry or unreasonable? You confuse me...
The list of denial
It works kinda like this we are born and we come into the world and as
we experience life we create the list. We live by the list hanging by
every line of information. The list is like a passport for us, to define
ourselves and bolster our fragile self image of how we do life and how things
from “the list” were the major influence. My list is short
1.Death
2.Love
3.Fear
I’ve been on the
VIP list for death for about the last seven years. It does wear you out,
the thought of someone never being around again is enough to give you pause,
but the true experience cannot be explained, though like cancer it eats at
you, inside, turning everything black.
Love is
probably in everyones list. You fall in love, but it doesn’t work.
You are depressed, all the ground in your life you gained has fallen away and
you’re worse then you were before. Love is a straight cold bitch and
we are definitely hedging our bets these days.
Failure is a
fear I have, a fear that I never had until death reared it’s ugly head and
made me understand just how fragile the immortality of youth was. Like a
shadow with the lights turned on, I am afraid.
Tie them all
together and my list is a simple sum: I am afraid, which makes me nervous and
cautious in relationships, I fear my own mortality, which makes me impatient
and love is so hard, so fleeting sometimes that the longing can often times
turn into frustration
I’ll say this though, I fight that fucking list everyday. I rid my
motorcycle, I play hard, I am in love, believe in love and will fight for
love. And as much as I’m a pussy about things, I still got balls.
I don’t want to live by a list of things which have shaped me, I don’t
want to be plotted out in the first half of my life. Unlike most I
actually experience life, I enjoy it, I still interact, as much as I lament
not being able to live the simple life and worse yet living in interesting
times. I love it, I fight everyday to not be suffocated by the list.
I know your
list, it is corruption, rape, betrayal, selfishness, arrogance, anger, hate.
Whatever things fill your list, ask yourself every day “Am I living life or
just going down the list” Do more, risk more, be more…it’s a better life
in the end.
read the next piece: if anyone
in the party picks on other people, openly threaten them, the angry
villager syndrome will prevail with your drunken party guests,