Anger
It is a funny thing to be angry. I have always known anger as a passing emotion, because it motivates you to take some action, and that action will remove the anger one way or another. But it is different to hold in anger. To choke on it. I never knew that the sensation could really be so near to choking.
It is like the building excitement you feel growing bigger inside you as you wait to finally live out that one big dream– except that this dream is a nightmare and it will bring down you and your whole house if you ever let it loose. Anger can be forgotten, too; you can let it go and think that it has floated gently away down the stream– but when new anger is triggered, you will find the old anger is still there, like a bad dream that visits when you sleep but fades with the light of day.
It is amazing to me the disturbance that can be caused merely by my choice of a wife. I am not the only one who’s getting married. Why can’t people be happy for me, too? I hope there would be a similar reaction if some joe married a Colombian Catholic– because everyone knows that most Colombians and most Catholics are terrorists. So that would at least be consistent. But since when was bigotry fair?
Really its not being pulled from a desirable job position, or barred from beneficial training, that begins to get to me. None of those things are important. It is the stone wall of silence, the implied whispers, the strong implication that all things considered I am worth nothing more than a bag of shit.
Underneath it all, stoking the flames, is my fear. Fear that all is not what it seems and that the worst may be yet to come. Because hate them or love them my fate is now tied to the whims of my company’s leadership. I have not married yet. The most precious thing in the world is still thousands of miles away.
It is this same love that saves me in the end. Because no matter what hateful passions flow through my body and pollute my mind, they can never be more important than that sweet promise of a lifetime filled with family; the tender smile which lifts my heart; the great devotion which guides my days; the delicious anticipation of that second first kiss.
Still, some days I wonder if my love will always be stronger than my hate. Sometimes I forget about everything except my hatred. Even when I am among friends, and having a good time, it is still there. When the friends leave, and the fun subsides, hate takes over. I can bury it, I can juggle it, I can philosophize it and explain it long-hand to the nth degree. I can wait longing for the day when I can finally drop it, let it go and watch it float down the stream. But I cannot let it out. Because its not only me I have to fight for.
As for philosophy, I think one wise man put it best, when he said: you pay to play, man. You pay to play.