I was upset yesterday, very lonely and lost. Didn’t have a great night. And today I woke up furious. Angry with the world in general and their stupid expectations. I think people could sense it, and I wanted them to know that I was angry. I wanted to lash out at someone, anyone.
But I didn’t.
I thought I ate up the anger.
But I haven’t.
It’s still there, lurking inside, bubbling in my throat as words that I daren’t say. Pouring out sometimes as hot tears, and sometimes choked back in with a gulp.
People did try to make me feel better, but I didn’t let them.
If I let the anger go I’ll be left with the emptiness again. It’ll just be me again. The anger kept me company today. It was there to deal with things I’m not strong enough to deal with. It was there to accept things that I couldn’t have otherwise. It was there to scream at life; to say it’s okay if you screw with me now, because I’ll have my day too, and it won’t be pretty. It’s still here when everyone else is gone.
I think I like the anger. It’s way better than the emptiness.
I think I’m going to keep it.