Anger. Another word 

Look down at my hands

And see they are cracked 

Look closer, my cuticles are bleeding

My nails so short, wounds and raw skin 

My toes are the same.

Look at my skin, is wrinkled and dry 

If only my body could talk 

If only my soul could reveal 

That it is torn, ripped, confused, drowning 

Staying afloat just because it has to.

If only my body could talk 

My mind would share its burden with a companion 

But anxiety is like:

 a snake on my body 

It comes, it bites, it poisons 

Then it suddenly disappears,

Leaving behind 

A figure so serene, so peaceful

An exclamation: What a relief! 

Nights and days, cycles of seasons 

All has become timelessness

Thoughts of overwhelming sadness 

Possess my body. 

Without reason, without asking for permission 

And I don’t understand 

Why me? Why now? Why forever?

Sometimess I feel empty 

Like a programmed machine without emotions 

They say pills might kill the love hormone

I don’t even remember the last time 

I felt alive, excited, in love, high with passion. 

I forgot when I screamed of pleasure 

My body is numb

I am jaded, in desperate need of attention.

I am lonely, I just want to sleep. 

I want to detach from everything. 

I want comfort, I want to feel again

Like I am alive.

All these contradictory thoughts 

Are fighting a war.

-To the death, they say! 

The stimuli in my brain 

Have taken up swords 

Against each other. 

And all I feel is pain, physical pain 

My body is agitated,

My heart is running down the street

I am hot and cold and fearful 

A poision like liquid travels fast 

From my hands to my head. 

I feel it in my veins, 

Like red chilli mixed with arsenic and hot alcohol. 

I feel I am gonna lose it, 

Become unconscious soon

Die without even saluting death. 

But still, 

When anxiety comes I shake off and tell myself: 

Oh, another one…it will pass. 

Then anger comes..an uncontrollable force 

Anger at the world, I feel murderous

I could plant a bomb and end humanity

In that very instant without any guilt 

Then I hate myself, for being so weak 

For succumbing to this rush of negative feelings and thoughts 

For the way I am wired, for my unbalanced hormones 

Look at me now and tell me that: 

‘Positive thinking helps a lot’

‘Other people have it hard too’

‘You will get over this’

‘We all get bad days’

‘Try to watch cartoons’

Or ‘smoke weed’ 

And I get it, people say generic things when you have a problem. 

They give advice and want to help. 

It is called empathy or so they say.

But how can you?

When I am in a constant torment, 

Because of the endless stream of ideas,

That I would rather close my eyes 

And live in my dreams 

But it doesn’t help!

They are nightmares 

So how can you? 

Serve me this bullshit on a golden plate? 

From the outside it seems like a fantasmagoric illness, a made-up ailment 

For people who complain a lot, who want to blame their unhappiness on something

And even I ask myself 

Why am I not strong enough?

Isn’t happiness my own responsability?

They say it is to be found inside?

Then why does an endless fresh stream of exhaustion and suffering 

Flood my every cell?

When I only look for my share 

Of satisfaction.

But then I realize, fuck…

Something’s wrong.

People are serving me self-help advice 

They say they feel me, 

they are here for me 

Words are empty,  

Silence more meaningful. 

A hug, a kiss, a stroke of hair 

And delving deep into my pain.

People think: (my friends, my mother, my partner, the rest of the world) 

That I should close the door to raw anger 

To disconcerting anxiety, to the subtle depression

That I should not think too much 

That I should change the topic of discussion.

This exhausts me, leaves me empty 

A body without a soul. 

Someone who sometimes thinks:

Can I just get intravenous nutrition in bed today? 

Adult diapers and from time to time 

Some human touch. 

I want to be reassured I am still breathing. 

So I decide not to barricade myself inside 

A fabricated postive energy, happy thoughts bubble 

I let my pain inundate me 

And tell myself the world is fucked up 

So if you want to help 

Please suffer with me 

Complain and swear,

Ask questions about the purpose of it all 

Be confused, cry, struggle 

Open up just one eye when the alarm rings

Decide to linger in bed today 

To be nostalgic, 

To experience movies vicariously 

To not go out into the world 

To not fulfill your role as an adult 

To not take seriously your attributions

Your responsabilities 

To still be a kid

Without depression. 

10 thoughts on “Anger. Another word 

  1. R.A. says:

    Hi … wow … for what it’s worth, I often complain and swear, and would gladly do so with you. And I do cry more than I wish I did. But according to therapy, crying is good for us because beneath all the anger there is pain, emotional pain, and once you get below the anger to the next level, you feel that raw pain, and then we are back in touch with our animal instincts – to howl and wail because that’s how we let the feelings out.
    People say all kinds of “positive” things to try to help, and they really do mean well and often love us so much, but I was in a very dark place once, and I told someone about it, and he said something nobody else had said: “Fuck, I would have thrown myself off a tall building by now if I were you.”
    Obviously, I’m not recommending suicide as a solution(!), it was just an expression, and (according to therapy) you can’t make someone else suicidal anyway, but when he said that, I felt such relief. No more needing to be grateful because it could be worse; no more positive thinking, or the law of attraction, or others have it worse than I do – when did it become a competition??
    And empathy is not sympathy; empathy is when somebody cries because they can feel *your* pain, and the last thing they’d do is try to cheer you up because they know that it just feels like pressure. They’d say, hey I’m here. I’m here, and I’ve been in the dark too. No point trying to drag somebody out; but, damn, I’m grateful if someone will sit with me in the dark sometimes and keep me company. ❤ x

    Liked by 2 people

  2. My late friend Chuy put it this way:

    “All my life I’ve been told ‘Thunder can’t hurt you.’, but that never stopped me from being terrified by it. Spare people such senseless jabber.
    Hold them, and tell them ‘I’m right here.’.
    It is truly the only solace you can provide.”

    Seek peace,

    Paz

    Liked by 1 person

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