Generally I emote on a two dimensional scale which runs from lust to rage. Occasionally I’ll drop of that scale and find myself lingering in a limbo of depression and coldness, but what I really want to talk about today is anger. Pure, unfiltered, red hot, raw anger. The kind that courses like lava through otherwise feeble veins. The cataclysmic chemical reaction of the need to scream and scream and scream and scream. It’s always so explosive, like an unreleased orgasm, banging and thrashing from behind my skull. It’s always so creative, and the meanest things that I can ever think of roll off my tongue so easily and so sweetly.
It’s a symphonic emotion, cursed with grace and overwhelming. A complete physical sweep across every muscle, injecting every movement with tension and fury. A truly inspired mind state and the best excuse to treat other people like total shit. Anger drives me to do things that an otherwise rational me would never even fathom doing, and then anger makes doing those things like the most normal, logical thing in the world. Anger gets me drunk, but when I’m angry, it’s not some champagne high happy party – it’s the alcohol that I’m forcing into my blood stream as a way to slow down the blood that is pulsing a million miles an hour and looking for a fight or a way to get out of my body.
I use anger to cauterize the wounds of a bleeding ego, and the threat of violence that ensues the panic attack of manic rage is imminent and not to be taken lightly. Directionless at time, my rage takes no prisoners. It shoots women and children. It has an excellent memory and foments grudges that will last the rest of my lifetime.
It’s holy, almost. It’s a template of mental clarity on which to foist the world’s problems, and then solve them. Anger fucks and it fucks and it fucks and it fucks. My anger holds me close, late at night, when I cannot sleep, because the pounding of my heart and rage in my head are like machines that can never stop working. I will find you and I will hurt you and I will not give a fuck because the anger makes everything I do in this world totally okay.
I will not stop until the rage inside me is murdered by the only thing that ever seems to stop it: guilt.