My Anger

I found an old freewrite from 1996… making me realize that I’ve been struggling with feelings of overwhelming anger for far longer than I’d been mindful of.  By way of warning, I think this freewrite gets a little intense, but when I do these kinds of exercises I try not to censor myself.  The words express the intensity of the emotion more than representing any kind of reality.

I carry a really heavy anger, it’s shaped like a cube with orange and purple stripes all over it.  I keep trying to lose it, at the bus stop, in the grocery store, under the pews at the church, but it’s got my name and address written in permanent marker, and I’ll be damned if people don’t keep bringing it back to my doorstep, all heaving and sweaty from carrying that horrifying weight.  “You left this ugly thing on my porch!” They shout at me.  “Keep your stupid crap out of my face!”

Often times I’ll leave it outside for a while, try to pretend it doesn’t exist.  But sometimes I actually miss it.  I’ll bring it in and put a little doily over it, put my feet up on it while I watch the tube.  I’m not sure exactly what it’s for, sometimes someone’ll piss me off when I’m out walking and I’ll think about throwing it at them.  But somehow I know I’d never get the red stains off where it bashed their skull in, and then it would be an even uglier thing to carry around.

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One response to “My Anger

  1. You’re moving forward all the time 😉

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