When I get angry I could kill. When I’m angry I explode. When angered god help you. Actually, (shh) none of what I’ve written heretofore is me. When I’m angry my pulse races, my knees buckle and adrenaline clouds my better judgement. The odd thing is rather than hit out at the object of my anger, I walk. Away. I have learnt from experience and from observation that fights don’t always end in favour of the person wronged (or who thinks he was wronged) and there is a 100% probability I will regret whatever comes out of my mouth. What I don’t reckon with is that by not hitting out I end up hitting in. My insides are all twisted and my head is messed up. Let’s not even talk about self-esteem. The only good thing is that self-destruction within helps keep the world outside safer or at least that’s how its worked out until now.
Everyone gets angry at something at least once in a life lived long enough. You’re pushed or stepped on in a train by someone in a rush to get to where? Your supper is late because of atrocious restaurant service and you know they’ll have the effrontery to add a discretionary 12.5% charge to your bill. But these are petty anger instigators. Injustice, poverty, corruption, blasphemy, love cheats – these are the elephants in the room and it doesn’t matter if the reason is real or “puff” “puff” imaginary. There’s always justification for vengeance and the consequences can be severe. Like sex, there’s no stopping the urge to expiate this passion violente.
Tonight, at least a dozen people who were alive in Oslo this morning will never again look up and be dazzled at the blueness of the sky. Why, because someone was pissed off at something someone else did. It’s perverse. The really perverse thing is that these persons right now in their heads are justifying their actions. Hang them. Oops, did I just say that? I must not let my anger get in the way. But of what exactly?