|Anger makes you
Author: Shady Shinigami PM
Anything it wants you to be, and nothing you want to be. It makes you hate, love, violent, strong, and weak. It makes you want to die, and it makes you want to live. Rated M for mentions of suicide and harm to others.Rated: Fiction M - English - Tragedy/Angst - Words: 617 - Published: 08-12-11 - Status: Complete - id: 2942680
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
I don't like being angry.
I don't sit around trying to make myself angry, thinking up bad thoughts. They just come to me, without me having to do anything. Its almost as natural as breathing. Thats the sad thing.
I'll just be sitting in a room, goofing around with a family member, or maybe reading a book, watching an anime, or even something so simple as brushing my teeth. Suddenly, bad things will enter my thoughts and the next thing I know, I'm clenching my teeth together, my fingers curled into fists.
My breathing gets heavier, and my eyes begin to blaze. I growl quietly, trying to pull the thoughts away. But it's not so simple. They don't just go away, they grow. Thats what anger does. It grows. It grows into a monster that stands constantly behind you, silently pushing its way inside of you, slowly taking control of your mind, soul, and life.
The only thing keeping the anger from entering me fully is the depression. Depression so strong that is able to beat the beast of anger.
Anger makes you hate.
It makes you sit around and think of the ones who hate, wishing that they had never been born. Wishing that you could hurt them, to make them pay for whatever it they have done to you.
Anger makes you love.
You love all the things you don't hate even stronger than before, because you don't hate them. Because they are one of the few things that you still can feel joy over. You hold those things even closer, whatever they may be. You make sure they are safe and away from harm. Away from you.
Anger makes you violent.
You grab the nearest object and throw it across the room, trying to smash it to peices. You'll grab a broom and go outside and beat it against whatever is close to you, screaming wordless rage. You hide in the darkest closest and punch the wall, over and over again. You do all these things so that you won't hurt someone you care about, or anybody at all, even somebody you hate.
Anger makes you strong.
You'll gain the strenth of a thousand men, and you'll be able to harm anyone you want. Your friends, families, and enemies. And yourself. So strong.
Physically of course. It only weakens you mentally and emotionally, cutting down your walls of protection that you spent so long putting up.
Anger makes you weak.
Anger makes you anything it wants you to be, and nothing you want to be. It reminds you everday of everything that went wrong in your life, and makes you think of everything that will go wrong in the future. It makes you want to run from everything you know, but forces you to stay.
Anger makes you want to die.
It makes you want to end everything, to make it all go away. You sit alone and think of all the ways it could be done. Should you do it yourself or hope for an accident? You lay in bed an pray to God that if it does happen, it happens by accident, so that way you don't do it yourself, and can still go to heaven. Thats another thing you do, you think of how wonderful heaven must be, and how you can't wait to get there.
It makes you hate.
It makes you love.
It makes you violent.
It makes you strong.
It makes you weak.
It makes you want to die.
And it makes you want to live.
So that you may go on being angry.