Anger is the most frustrating of all emotions.
I speak from experience because, though you might not always be able to tell, I’m actually a very angry person. To be honest, I think most people are. Sometimes I feel like the whole concept of “personality” is just a defense mechanism that we use to try to keep others from realizing just how close we are to losing control of our emotions. Personality is what we use to disguise the fact that we’re all essentially just the product of lost dreams, failed loves, and questions that will never be answered.
As I sit here right now, All About Eve is playing on the TV in front of me. I love All About Eve and I was very much looking forward to seeing it but I’ve barely paid attention to it.
Instead, I’ve spent the entire film trying to deal with the anger that I feel towards one guy that I barely even know. Without going into too many specifics, he basically made some comments regarding how I choose to express myself.
Yeah, I know. That’s pretty vague.
But why I’m angry with him isn’t really that important. His comments were stupid and self-righteous and, sad to say, that same was probably true of my response. (The difference between me and him is that I, at least, am capable of realizing this.) What’s important is why one idiot could manage to piss me off so much as to ruin several hours out of my weekend.
Well, truthfully, he’s not the one who ruined those hours. I am. I’m the one who allowed his pointless comments to mean something to me. Through my response, I gave him a prominence that he really doesn’t deserve.
Why did I do this? This is a question that I’ve asked myself many times. Why can’t I just let this stupid bullshit go? Why do I insist on giving in to my irrational, immature impulses when I know that it’s just going to make things worse?
Because I’m angry.
I was angry before this idiot even knew I existed. I was angry long before I ever had a twitter account. I was angry before Facebook ever existed. I’ve been angry my entire life. 25 years is a long time to be angry but I’ve managed to do it.
My anger is not born out of hate. My anger is fueled purely by pain. Everyday is a struggle not to give into that pain and, with each passing year, I get a little bit better at fighting off that pain. But far too often, I get hit in a moment of weakness and I give in.
I wish I didn’t.
I never feel good about it afterward.
Every day, I promise myself that I will no longer allow myself to be victimized by my own pain.
Some day, hopefully, I’ll actually be able to keep that promise.