Sometimes I wish I could teleport myself to a home that has the power to placate my raging nerves. I am not a calm person by nature, and I struggle every day to not let myself blow and be as calm and gentle as possible, and yet somehow bitterness flows to the tip of my tongue. I try every day to follow Mrs March’s advice and not let anger define me. All I wish to do is abandon this world, find a bubbling river unmindful of my existence, and scream standing at its bank. She wouldn't mind it. Would she?
I also feel immense pain looking at what humans are subjecting themselves to. Penury existence, racial condescension, communal divide, patriarchal oppression — the big issues, the brutal inhumane treatment — somehow doesn't evoke anger or rage but pity and empathy for the people abjected to the receiving end of such treatment. Then how is it, despite being an empathic person I become angry and bitter over small things?
I often find myself looking at insignificant things and feeling for them, then how do I engulf myself in rage and raise my voice when within the four walls of my home? I try every day to achieve the equanimity I admire in the novels and books I read, their immense patience, the vast expanse of love they liberally pour into the world. My friends think I am patient but then why di I think I am not?
Sometimes, we do not acknowledge the emotions we feel because the world tells us they are negative but isn't anger a mundane emotion that all of us feel at some point in our life? If every human has a different temperament then who gets to decide what is negative and what is not? I don't know the answer. All I know is this emotion I feel is not negative but unhealthy and if I let it breed it hurts the people I love the most, and how do I control it? By writing? By reading? But I want to break things and scream. Only if it was socially acceptable. Sigh.
