“What is anger?” She says, as she turns away from the window and looks up at me.
“Anger is the emotion of disdain and revulsion...”
..but before I can finish, she interrupts and adds “...what is anger to you?”
“A tool and a gift. ... You see, it is the rudder that steers me through the day. It is rich upon air I breathe in, but more so the wrath I breathe out. It is the chemical in my head that connects the neurons, the spark across the synapse that carries impulse to thought, and thought to action. It is the currency I trade in, and buy simultaneous relief and regret. It is the salt sick bile in my mouth when weakness would compel me to vomit out the hope I would ever have for a world too damned to ever save itself, but it is the aggression and disgust that bids me to choke it down again. It is the sadness of years and years heaped upon my back, it is the scars on my hands, knees, face, and mind of not being strong enough when I needed to be invincible, it is the welling of tears I was never allowed to shed, it is...comfort in the chaos.”
Suddenly I realize I haven’t been talking to anyone and I am alone. No one asked me that question, and no one was awaiting the answer. It served me none to have said it, as I’ve known my connection to that emotion for too long.
“It is my primal chord, my basic tradition. It has been counted, measured, weighed, and recorded since I could form memory, and it will always win out when challenged by any other motive. My anger dissolves love, it flourishes in depression, but more than anything else, it feeds on fear. Any fear at all. My anger is my salvation from fear...but at the cost of everything good I could ever win for myself. Any paltry joy gleaned from continuing to take in air is stained by the knowledge that it is fleeting. Readied is the blade that will sever a moment’s joy from mind in favor of the seething roll of unbridled rage.”
Again, I am aware that I am monologuing for an audience that does not exist. I don’t know how much was said aloud, how much was shared and served to convince no one.
“None of this matters.”
The words hit my ears, and they don’t even convince myself before disappearing into the sea of noise inside my head.
