Bloody pissed!!! that's how I like to describe my state of mind when I'm not particularly happy about something. Anger I believe is the best cannibal pet a man can have. Leash it, then it can be used as a very useful weapon, let it leash you then it becomes a different ball game altogether.
I control my anger as many times as I'm happy to give myself up to the dark side of mine. I'm trying to feel what it is like to get angry and still be able to quantize the flow of thoughts as if they were not the ripples in a free flowing river but vagabond pebbles that can be actually collected in a sieve and this inability to think while angry is what makes any angry man a potential nuclear weapon. I'll try to do this now that I'm in a comparatively calmer state of mind. I' trying to explore MY psyche so if anyone who reads this monologue feels that he doesn't vade through similar emotions then he can just keep quiet and be angry with me for not understanding his feelings.
How does my anger start? For the believers in the stellar theory on one's moods, I beg you to please examine me for the extreme lunacy, because if not the moon then I don't know what makes me act like a raging bull under seemingly trivial circumstances and behave like a harmless cube of ice even under pressure far exceeding one atmosphere. What is it about certain events that just unpins the grenade? First I believe is the state of mind. If I woke up with a sullen expression in the morning then the chances are that inertia will make me stick to a similar mood the whole day unless something terribly nice happens and 9 times out of 10 nothing nice happens because I'm way too busy fuming over wrong siders, rash drivers, lazy co-workers, road spitters and myriad variety of jerks that are spilling over from the planet. And these are the days when everyone can see that cloud over my head. Always ready to burst, with a lot of thunder and lightning, furrowed brows, red ears, bloodshot and glaring eyes. Going by the account of people who were unfortunate enough to be infront of me on these occasssions, I look terrifying but I believe I must be looking funny.
All I remember in these episodes is that splitting click of the overtaut wire and then there is a blank for a while followed by a picture of me walking out of the place recently plundered (physically/emotionally) by me.
The repurcussions of these mostly unpleasurable rendezvous are tense situations that continue for weeks afterwards, awkward conversations with the people directly related to the incident. I don't bother about such consequences but the immidiate effects include uncomfortably rapid heart beat, feel of the blood flow as if it'll just burst out of the ears and aching knuckle joints due to clenched fists and yeah most importantly the gloomy aura which lasts longer depending on the gravity of the outburst which actually sinks the people around me, that long face might look good in advertisements endorsing "macho" products but in reality it looks as blank and dimwitted as Jean Claude Van Damme's face.
Sometimes I enjoy that "St. anger round my neck", as the line in Iris goes "Yeah you bleed just to konw you're alive..", anger does help me take a look at the emotional side of me which very rarely is on public display and helps in cleansing the bad blood that gets accumulated over a span of time. However sometimes I want to get rid of the dead weight but I believe I will never be able to because temperament of a man is as unique as his fingerprints and I can not change it, may be just control it.... some day.
I control my anger as many times as I'm happy to give myself up to the dark side of mine. I'm trying to feel what it is like to get angry and still be able to quantize the flow of thoughts as if they were not the ripples in a free flowing river but vagabond pebbles that can be actually collected in a sieve and this inability to think while angry is what makes any angry man a potential nuclear weapon. I'll try to do this now that I'm in a comparatively calmer state of mind. I' trying to explore MY psyche so if anyone who reads this monologue feels that he doesn't vade through similar emotions then he can just keep quiet and be angry with me for not understanding his feelings.
How does my anger start? For the believers in the stellar theory on one's moods, I beg you to please examine me for the extreme lunacy, because if not the moon then I don't know what makes me act like a raging bull under seemingly trivial circumstances and behave like a harmless cube of ice even under pressure far exceeding one atmosphere. What is it about certain events that just unpins the grenade? First I believe is the state of mind. If I woke up with a sullen expression in the morning then the chances are that inertia will make me stick to a similar mood the whole day unless something terribly nice happens and 9 times out of 10 nothing nice happens because I'm way too busy fuming over wrong siders, rash drivers, lazy co-workers, road spitters and myriad variety of jerks that are spilling over from the planet. And these are the days when everyone can see that cloud over my head. Always ready to burst, with a lot of thunder and lightning, furrowed brows, red ears, bloodshot and glaring eyes. Going by the account of people who were unfortunate enough to be infront of me on these occasssions, I look terrifying but I believe I must be looking funny.
All I remember in these episodes is that splitting click of the overtaut wire and then there is a blank for a while followed by a picture of me walking out of the place recently plundered (physically/emotionally) by me.
The repurcussions of these mostly unpleasurable rendezvous are tense situations that continue for weeks afterwards, awkward conversations with the people directly related to the incident. I don't bother about such consequences but the immidiate effects include uncomfortably rapid heart beat, feel of the blood flow as if it'll just burst out of the ears and aching knuckle joints due to clenched fists and yeah most importantly the gloomy aura which lasts longer depending on the gravity of the outburst which actually sinks the people around me, that long face might look good in advertisements endorsing "macho" products but in reality it looks as blank and dimwitted as Jean Claude Van Damme's face.
Sometimes I enjoy that "St. anger round my neck", as the line in Iris goes "Yeah you bleed just to konw you're alive..", anger does help me take a look at the emotional side of me which very rarely is on public display and helps in cleansing the bad blood that gets accumulated over a span of time. However sometimes I want to get rid of the dead weight but I believe I will never be able to because temperament of a man is as unique as his fingerprints and I can not change it, may be just control it.... some day.
