anger’s truth

why didn't you stick up for yourself? you're too much. figure it out. don't think about it. that happened so long ago, why now? stop. go. i worry about what holding onto this grudge for so long can do. decide. be quiet. this isn’t the time or place. what do you mean you don’t cry anymore? you should let it go. what are you afraid of, just do it. this is justice. that was cruel. get even.

so which is it? & is that even right? the contradictions of the criticisms.

i should be too offended to feel any grief? who created the myth & why do we agree?

because anger helps us tell the truth, yet apparently i am limited in my ability to be honest.

like a fire though, this specific burning emotion is either an instrumental resource or rapid, irreversible destruction. a warmth & ember glow or clenched fists of burnt bridge ash. 

the fear of everyone’s anger stops me from telling my truth. it withheld hysterical tears, audible yells, physical punches, piercing words, simply presenting facts.

i refuse to perpetuate damage that is already done. vengeance won’t repair the past & harboring creates zero justice. 

besides, if you somehow saw that version of me, you would’ve been the first to leave. i saw this version of you, why didn’t i have permission to go?

so the fake happiness was the loneliest sadness. right behind the deceptive experience of being numb.

i think i’ll always be better at being gentle, just forcing agreement with a smile. 

& if i ever discover my rage, i also know i’ll be clumsy with it. i’ll apologize profusely, lose sleep over how it’s interpreted & recluse from self-inflicted shame.

while i may spend the rest of my time combatting a misunderstanding of this expression. it may actually make me angry.

but how heavy the weight of resentment is when you finally feel it fall off your back.