It hurts sometimes. Having so much inside and no outlet. No reasonable outlet. No legal outlet. Just techniques to send it 6 feet under, but does it really dead. Techniques to send it in another jar, but that jar has a limited capacity. Sooner or later it rises from the "grave". Sooner or later it spills over and the jar breaks. You can't keep pushing deeper, can't keep buying jars. There has to be an outlet. You can distract it with happiness, with joy; but you have to address the anger. It, like every other emotion, must be expressed. Finding out a way that works really depends on what got you angry.
To me I relate anger as a poison, and hope I'm not the only one. It hurts you and everyone you present it to.
What causes my anger, my hate.
My dad was arrested for selling drugs when I was 8. And because of me being so young, the only thing I understood was that dad was gone the next day and not coming back, but I could still talk to him. Ever since then I had a personal vendetta against drugs, weed in particular. In all truth, weed is the lesser out of all the drugs in the world and has some positively effects. When my dad came back when I was 16, he still became to smoke, so I was always angry with him.
My grandpa passed away when I was in 9th grade. My dads dad. my dad wasn't close with his dad so it didn't bother him that much, but I wAs close with him, so it f***ing hurt. He died of a heart attack, so they left me with no one to point my anger at, so I pointed at myself for not spending more time with him when I had the chance. Then later that year, I seen a abusive relationship start up and I did nothing about it, the next day the girl was killed by her boyfriend, and I blamed myself for not helping. Ever since then, I've been finding myself in situations where I can help people, save people's lives, and be there for people. Now apart of me gave up the idea of God when my grandpa died but there is a part of me that still understands the concept of believing. That part believe that if there is a God then he is putting me in the situations to help other people to atone for my sin of not helping that woman and in the outcome I began to like helping people and protecting people is what led me to choose criminal justice as my career. The non religious part believe that this world is shitty and that it is just rapid coincidences that I find myself in the situations Over and over again. I realize each time that the world is not what everyone believe it is. I have seen so much, so much I wish I haven't seen, so much I hope no one ever does and it has molded me to believe that this anger can be a good thing. This could be my outlet.
In the end I find myself in a battle with myself. Because my anger is so vivid and terrifying that it almost feels like it's a second person. Me: wants to believe that evil people can still be saved, rehabilitated. The other me: thinks that when I encounter a evil person, I must delete them. To stop them from ever hurting someone again. That people can't change.
I have been referred to as a sin eater. Didn't know what that meant so I looked it up. Back in the 18th to 19th century, Scotland families would put bread and wine on the bodies of their deceased loved ones. This was for the ones that died unexpectedly so they did not get to confess for their sins. They believed that the bread and wine soaked up and absorbed the sins of the deceased and they would hire sin-eaters to come and eat the bread and drink the wine, absorbing the sins of the deceased so they can go to heaven. The consequence is that the sin eater is most definitely going to hell for the sins they absorbed.
I'm a sin-eater, I am here to take on the shitty dark parts of the world and doing whatever is necessary to make sure that everyone goes to heaven. Again, I am not a religious man, but if I was, this makes the most sense to me.