Tuesday, April 22, 2014

Day LXXIX: Anger

Sometimes I find old journals and take great pleasure in reading the words I wrote. That probably sounds exceptionally egotistical, but, hey, gimme a second.

I like to wonder about what I was feeling that day or what I must have gone through to put such strange thoughts to paper. It makes me feel strong to reminisce. There is so much power in the written word; that I felt compelled to keep track of my experience in one moment in time...perhaps there was a reason.

This was dated March 3rd, 2012. It was--is--titled "Anger."
I don't know where all this anger comes from. I don't remember being so consistently upset as I have been in the last year or so. There's this strange fury that lives in my chest, I didn't invite it in, but it's found a way to create a home. Sometimes, I like to picture the spiraling, angry tendrils working their way through limbs, tattooing my body from the inside out. I guess the ink would have to be my blood? Does that make veins my needles? A tattoo is an apt analogy, I think; this anger feels like it might be permanent. 
When I was younger, I was not an angry child. Even in middle school and high school, I don't remember feeling so heavy with unhappiness. I wonder if being gay has something to do with it, innately. Like that one aspect of my DNA predisposes me to anger, to resentment. I am inclined to think "no." I've known that I was gay for a very long time, much longer than the span of time this writhing clump of ick has been living behind my ribs.
I wonder if I could isolate where it lives. 
I think it lives in my spine. I think it lives in my heart. I think it lives in my head. 
I think I'd like to remove it.
No...that I know.
I couldn't tell you tonight where that anger was or what caused such a strange and fearsome burden.

I just danced and lipsync'd (lipsyanc?) with a house full of friends. Perhaps anger drowns in sweat? Unlikely.

No, I think the real culprit here is confidence and happiness. Confidence and happiness that does not come without a lot of fucking work.

But, really, it's the kind of work that's really damn important.

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