Never write a letter while you are angry. ~Chinese Proverb
Something happened this afternoon and I got angry. I don't mean I was hacked off, I mean the red haze came down, the hackles stood on end, the teeth bared, and, had the object of my ire been handy, I probably would have done a considerable deal of damage.
It was no trivial matter. I don't get really angry over trivia. It takes quite a lot to really make me literally see red. Of course, like anyone else, I get irritated, but I learned a long time ago to keep the leash on the starving attack dog of my true anger. Someone I love very much had an injustice committed against them, and if I could rush to this person's defense and do some good, I would.
It has always scared me that something that powerful and dark lives inside. Maybe I come by it honestly. My heritage is Irish and Apache. If you go back to the bizarre genetic race heritage theories, I guess maybe I get my temper and my poetry from them. I don't buy that too much, though.
It passed through me like an evil wind, and now I'm tired beyond description. Where does that darkness come from? Do we carry it around in us all the time like a deep well full of horror movie monsters? How do we kill it off and purify the flow? I don't have all the answers, just more questions and what feels like sandbags beneath my eyes. I think it's time for a shower and bed.
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And then you said.....