Angry Young Man
Angry. I’ve got to write this while I’m good and f*cking angry. You might say I want to kill someone right now, but that wouldn’t be entirely funny considering the events that took place in Colorado just days ago. But really if I could expel all the anger, the frustration, and the hate in my body right now it would probably kill whoever was in it’s path. I have this overwhelming desire to hurt someone, something, to bang my fist against an object until it breaks. Its not really that I want to hurt someone. I don’t like that idea. Shouldn’t work that way. But to hurt something, to inflict damage on an inanimate object. That would be bliss right now. If I could put my fist through this screen, and not be held accountable I would.
I want to exact some measure of revenge of life, on God, and on whomever put me in the place that I am in right now. Which I suppose would be me. I am responsible for my own actions. I am responsible for where I am right now, right? So I have no one to be angry at other than myself.
I hate my place in the world. I hate that I must move on. I hate searching for apartments. I hate that I am not allowed to be critical without being called negative. I hate that the people who “love” me do not seem to understand me. I hate that no matter how hard I try, no one is willing to give me a chance. I hate the way the world works.
And I almost wish it would end.
It’s not that I’m suicidal. I’m far too afraid of death for that. And this time it’s not even that I want to curl up in a ball and hide. I just want it to be over. I want all of the bullsh*t that I am going through to be done. I cannot hold all of the hurt, and the anger, and the sadness inside anymore.
John, my brother, used to beat the crap out of me as a kid. My younger brother. Humiliating. Dad told him that one day I wasn’t going to take it anymore, and that I was going to let it all out. But I kept holding it in. Like in the play for those of you who saw it. I keep holding it in, never able to release. I WANT RELEASE! I NEED IT!
But I can’t even force myself. I can’t pull it out of myself, or expel it, or anything. As hard as I try, I’ve gotten so used to holding on to things, to fearing change the way my Daddy taught me, that I can’t…
And so now, I rest at the inevitable end of the fit of anger, the oncoming of sadness. Once I’ve vented what little I can out of my system, I am forced to realize what a hopeless situation I have put myself into.
Enough with the melodrama. I’m sure you don’t want to hear about it. And I’m getting pretty f*cking sick of it myself.