Anger has become my default emotion. It’s easier. It’s clean. A little righteous rage. It burns everything else up. Leaves no space for subtlety. Or levity. Or depth.
I don’t want to be angry. It’s exhausting. So abrasive. I want to be light. I want to navigate things with patience and compassion. I want to feel my feet on the ground and my hands in the air. I want to breathe deep beautiful breaths and unwind myself into something fluid and graceful. I want to be kind.
But I’m not. Not today. And I wonder if it’s because you can really feel anger. It’s visceral. Your hands clench. The muscles jump in your jaw. There’s a focus to anger, that fills your skin and bites. And it’s good.
So I stand, and rage.
*Two nuns accosted by demons. Nun 1 says to Nun 2 ‘oooh, show them your cross’ and Nun 2 says ‘are you sure?’ ‘Yes, yes, show them your cross’, shrieks Nun 1. So Nun 2 says ‘fuck off you filthy bastards, before you make me <i>really</i> angry”.