I typically refrain from anger. On multiple levels, anger is so not a great place for me to be and I usually go to great lengths to avoid it. I have had many people throughout my life ask me why I do this.
Why? Because my anger is not your typical garden variety; when I reach the point of “truly enraged” I become Supreme Evil. Not in a screaming banshee, breaking shit and beating asses kind of way. That’s not my style. I’m talking scarier. As in, “I’m going to, very calmly and pointedly, release my verbal venom on your ass. In doing so, I will permanently rip that supercilious smirk right off your fucking face and crush your soul like a little walnut.” You see, I have a way with words. When I reach my breaking point, I go right for the jugular. Seek and destroy.
Again and again, over the past several months, I have repressed this part of myself both out of respect for the position this person has in my life and the fact that I, knowing the damage I’ve been known to inflict, prefer to avoid wielding that kind of hostile energy. However, yesterday my emotional limit was reached.
To put it mildly, I unleashed. It wasn’t pretty. Although it served its purpose in getting the person to shut up, it leaves me in a weird place. Not because I feel guilty in any way, but because I feel almost a compulsory, wicked desire to utterly destroy him, thereby righting all the wrongs he has inflicted upon me.
Lucky for him I’ve forced myself to simmer down. I’ve put myself in a provisional time out of sorts. Which means I’m refraining…for now.
1 comments:
ummm, remind me not to mess with you. I would surely start crying. :)
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