I’m enjoying this anger.
Selfishly, it’s freeing. Liberating. Beautiful.
It feeds my dislike, growing it into hate…soon it will be loathing.
Self destruction can be the only solution down this path and this excites me.
I see IT and I long to scream every disgusting word running though my angry head, shrieking at IT until IT realizes:
But, then, distantly, her sweet words trickle into my ears, softly swimming through the fog of my hate. I cannot ignore her.
I don’t want to.
Like warm water, she softens my heart, showing me the light from which I’ve been running. This light lovingly strips away my loathing, piece by piece, cutting away at my hate, and transforming my dislike into tolerance.
As the fog clears, comprehension takes it’s place. My anger begins receding and I slowly realize she is to save me from this anger that I love so much. She will ensure my safe return to the light.
If I let her.
Will I let her?
Under the surface, my anger is pacing, impatiently waiting for me to acknowledge it once more. I struggle to ignore my anger, trying to hold onto the light she has brought to me.
It’s getting brighter.
She’s becoming clearer with every passing second.
Hope is smothering my anger, showing me the chains that held my freedom to it.
Before I can stop it, my anger is pummeling my chest, forcing me to acknowledge it once again. I wrestle with it, desperately trying to see around it’s ugly facade, looking for the light I was so close to obtaining.
But, it’s no use. I cannot resist any longer.
My anger smiles and takes control of my heart once more.
This victory feeds my anger and it becomes stronger, more powerful than I can manage.
I am lost.
I don’t want to be found.
I give in to my anger, unwillingly loving it’s disgusting beauty.
Again, I’m angry.