I'm not sure if I'm using this as a journal, a diary, a blog, or what. I don't even know if I'm writing it for myself or for it to be read. I do know this, no matter what I say here, I and I alone have to solve my problems, figure the things out in my life, and come up with the answers to my own questions. The notion that I'm going to whisper secrets in your ear, and that you're going to listen attentively and offer brilliant suggestions to help me is ludicrous. Basically this is a way for my mind to speak to itself, by putting things into words I can look at the situation from another perspective, take emotion and feeling out of the equation. Either that, or it's an insidious and ingenious way to persuade a lone reader to like me for my mind, to build the trust of someone in me through reading what my mind says. I'm not that clever, and I don't desire to be that deceitful. Beautiful thoughts are one thing, noble intentions and feelings are wonderful, but they mean nothing if they are not acted on. "The Road to Hell is Paved with Good Intentions." Talk less, do more. I've had plenty of time to think, to have wonderful thoughts, 27 years I've done this. It doesn't mean anything, it's fake currency, because the truth, no matter how many times I think, feel, believe that the person in the mirror is not me... the truth is it is me. If the me I see myself as, and the me I see in the mirror are different, then it's my failing as a human, as a man, as a person. Seduced by inaction, I am someone other than my mind and ideas.
The truth is, I have ideals, ways I want the world and myself to act and be. I want to be kind, intelligent, and caring enough to have answers for peoples' problems. I like to be the one that helped, because it means the things I've done and learned are worthy of existing, they're worthy of my doing them. Money is meant to be spent, if it is not, then its function is moot.
The real truth? I'm a 27 year old boy. I keep waiting to grow up, but I'm a child, trying vainly to put all the pointy pieces of the world together in a smooth ball that everyone can share. I try to be kind, patient, thoughtful, and a "good person," but I'm not really. I try to act like I am, and sometimes I believe it, but never for very long. I'm emotional. I feel first and foremost, there's a great wash of feelings anytime anything happens to me. They're very nearly overpowering. I have highs and lows, when I'm truly happy I disturb people because they don't understand my emotion and can't feel it with me, and when I'm disappointed I upset people, it sucks all of the light out of the room. I don't have to do anything to do this, just feel. People say I have a contagious laugh, but it's not just the laugh, all of my emotions do this. My defense is to be cerebral. Apathetic. To cut myself entirely off from my emotions. I'm laid back, I don't get excited in happy situations, I don't lose control in emergencies, but I'm a constant buzzkill, and only with a few people do I truly come out, and usually I'm not even aware of it.
The real truth is I'm a very angry person. It's there constantly, usually controlled, normally beneath the surface. I'm not always angry, but it's like a flood just behind a dam, my first reaction to most things is anger. I'm told this isn't normal. I don't know, it's something that's always been with me. I think it's genetic. Aryans are known as an angry race, and my blonde hair, blue eyed family is no exception. Both sides of my family have an intense anger that is frightening when it comes out, controlling it is a battle. My brothers control it poorly, there are trails of broken things behind them to prove it. I must surely have it as much as them, to have anger constantly burning silently somewhere. It's why I hate to lose, and I handle disappointment poorly, because it's the same as losing. My solution is to not fuel the flames; I don't compete, I don't get involved, I don't get excited or put my emotions into activities. I've seen anger control people's lives, and being controlled by my anger would be losing the battle, and I refuse to lose. But, there comes a time, and I think that time is now, when holding my anger in check no longer works. I hold it back so much that I'm different on the outside than from the inside. My father has suppressed his anger for years, he's a very kind and caring person, but the anger part of him he never lets out, he never shows. It comes out when he sleeps. He fights in his sleep, he yells, he throws things without ever waking up. He taught me to never be angry, to always think and understand why I'm angry in order to control it... but he's held his anger inside too long and it poisons his dreams. My anger is a great source of strength for me, but it's also destructive. I've been afraid of letting it out too much all of my life, but I'm constantly seduced by violence. I think my anger is always at the fore because I'm not satisfied with my life, and holding it in and trying to pretend that it's the right way to be is actually wrong. I'm angry because I don't like my life, I like only parts of it, and anger is the tool I have to change it, to win.
Ultimately it's better to be honest and hated for what I am than pitied for being an incomplete person, a person uncomfortable around others, a shy person, always holding something back, always waiting and looking for the people I don't have to wear a polite mask in front of. And maybe if I stop suppressing my ire it will dissipate, it will have a vent and I can be me without thinking about it. Until then, I'm going to be angry until it's done. I'm not going to hold it back or feel guilty about it any longer.
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