Letter to Anger

Greetings, Anger!

I miss you. And that is all that this letter is going to be about. I badly, badly, very badly miss you. I do not know how and why I even lost you, but I remember it was a choice, and a choice I often repent. All around I see you flourish in plentiful. You are in toddlers who cannot articulate any other expression better, and in the unpredictable teenage years bashing doors and screaming swearwords. You are in the powerful in their exploitation, and in the weak in their subservience. You are such a natural, spontaneous response that today I know it is unhealthy to do away with you.

You were once in me too -- in my outbursts of temper at my friends, and in random breaking of pencils and throwing of anything at hand. Slowly you transformed into an elitist of no outbursts and restricted to overeating and regular shredding of paper. And since you had already taken the elitist way, I decided to let you be and trained myself to be without. So many times thus I have been tainted as a personality of zero assertion and diminishing determination. I am scared of you and your after effects having seen too much of you around. I find you to be very unreasonable on the thing or person you are pounced upon. And the weight of my feelings towards the one who are at the receiving end has always been greater than the one lashing you out. Thus, without.

But today, now, I miss you. I wish to scream, really. Some sense into the corporate hounds. I wish to just blurt out horrible third grade vernacular at the concerned authorities who have evoked so much hatred in me, and most of my anger is directed at my feeling of being trapped. At this amazing point of life where I am earning enough to travel anywhere, yet I rapidly do not even have a weekend to travel. I wish to teach people the importance of breaks, leisure, and pleasure and their cumulative effect on productivity, and rapidly I wish to point out all the unnecessary list of works I am made to do.

I wish to bang this keyboard on the door of the dumbest headspace ever, and drill some feelings in them. I wish I had you so much in me that I stopped wishing and started doing something about all the wishing, do them thoughtlessly. I miss you. I feel rather lame writing to you, the word is pansy. Writing, when I am angry. I do not know whether not having you has served me any purpose or not. It has saved me a lot of energy, though. And time. I gave you up for having the time to breathe in life, simply and beautifully.

To know that I may not be having much time now, to embrace all the beauty and love makes me miss you. Much. Can't think of anything else, other than the most apparent lack.

Come back to me,

K.