“The world needs anger. The world often continues to allow evil because it isn’t angry enough.”
~ Bede Jarrett
I saw a picture of you last night. I wanted to print it and trace your face with my cigarette.
I have never felt this kind of anger before. I tried to make sure that I’d never see you as someone I hate, but life always has its way of giving me exactly what I don’t want. It took one seemingly small incident of you making me feel unappreciated that made every hurtful thing you did to me that I made excuses for whirl mercilessly in my head. And just like that, all that I tried so much to bear, hope, believe, and endure crumbled into a miserable mess.
The anger in my heart is so thick that even my mind couldn’t reason with it any more. I’ve never wished for anyone to die except that night that I allowed you for the very last time to set me in pain. I am still in pain, because obviously anger is not an ideal thing to keep. But I owe so much to this anger. If not for this, clarity would not find its way to me. Now I am fully aware of all your faults and mine. I am not saying that you have not done me any good at all but it’s not enough. It could never be enough. The nice things you told me that used to be a source of inspiration are now just pieces of meaningless words and sounds.
You didn’t need me like I needed you. I needed you because… I… I couldn’t even say the word. You already know what that is because I already told you. And you needed me because you’re
fucked up lonely and confused. For a time, it felt good to be needed by you, because I knew that if you didn’t need me, I’d have no place in your life and I was too scared to let you go. Well you don’t need me anymore, I get it. I would have been happy to see you recovering if you did not painfully make me feel that I am no longer needed. You cruel, cruel man.
My closest friends argued that you didn’t deliberately hurt me so I deliberately told them off. You’re too smart to be insensitive. You’ve known me too long to not know the basic things that make me happy or cry. I did not ask for you to feel the same. I did not even expect that you would. I was just wrong to believe that you’d at least give me the little significance I thought I already earned from everything we’ve been through.
I’m done making excuses for you. Meaning, I’m done making excuses for myself. I am allowing to feel anger because it’s what I need to feel. I don’t want this but this is what I need. I’d rather be angry than sad. Who knows, this anger just might be a def-mech, just a part of the Stages of Grief that most people find strictly chronological and should be completed. If I believe them, then the next step to this is acceptance. I hope so. I hope for my own sanity that this anger stage will not go on for ever. Or for even a month. I scared myself the other day when I remembered you and I started punching the wall. It’s not in my emotional make-up to hold a grudge or to be manic-depressive. But like what I said, I have never felt this kind of anger before. I do not plan to plot revenge or vengeance. I did update my shitlist but it’s just really for me to remind myself that I cannot backslide. If acceptance won’t remove you from the shitlist, then indifference will.
I didn’t burn your picture. I’m using it as a bookmark for something I will not re-open for a very, very long time.
I’d like to say thank you to my friends who have been sending messages about letting go and moving on, and praying that I won’t go back to a faithless life. I promise to reply to you once I already know what He wants me to do. I’m pretty sure he’s allowing me to be angry. After all, He has not done anything to save me from this even after all the praying and begging I’ve done.
listening to: Jeff Buckley – Everybody Here Wants You