Friday, February 3, 2012


First off, sorry for not posting in a while; what little I've had to say was a bit more private than usual.


Anger is a beautifully powerful emotion. It's primal, intense feeling, and it lends strength to the limbs like few other things do in life. It also terrifies me far beyond what could be considered normal.

I am afraid of my own anger. I'm afraid of how much I can feel, and I'm even more terrified of what I feel like doing when angry. I'm afraid of that rush of power, that feeling of wanting to pulp someone's head underneath my hands. I'm afraid of how good it feels. I'm afraid of what I could turn into if I tap into that power; I remember of being at the mercy of someone controlled by their wrath, and I have no want to ever experience that again for as long as I still walk on this planet.

That doesn't stop me from feeling this intense anger, though. I have moments when I feel like putting my fist through the wall, and some part of me, beneath my fear, really enjoys that feeling. I often wonder what would happen if I let myself be really angry without fear of bodily harm. I wonder how long it would be before I felt the pain.

The reason I bring this up is that I almost ran into Mom tonight at a hockey game. Upon seeing her, I fled without giving reason why. After that, I was so angry with myself for fleeing, for being prey for a predator that should have no control over my life anymore. I felt like putting my fist through the wall, or like tearing my room to pieces.

It is a terrible thing, in my opinion, to be afraid of one's own feelings. It sucks, to be afraid of feeling, for fear of the repercussions.

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