Untouchable

An explaination on what anger does

                I’m fighting. I’ve always been, but none of you believe me. The invisible lacerations permanently tattooing my mind are reminders of what would have been too much for any of you too have born. I constantly wait for a savior of some sort to save me. No latter-day messiah arises to liberate me from the damnation of this hell. The only thing I search for is this crusader destined to unshackle me from this world empty, empty in the sense that there no much needed answers. So we create our own, not knowing we only form more answerless questions. The hollowness I feel is not unique, so many others feel this.
                I am tempted to put on the façade that only I have this cavity, yet I am perfectly aware that this is the ever-prevalent teenage-angst. I will never acknowledge this to anyone in any personal account this truth; I am perfectly content in living in the fabrication that I am the one atheist in the foxhole. Pushing this belief, when another angry youth comes to borrow my ears and to seek shelter in my heart I reject them claiming they lie. I slowly found my once respectable, gentle, caring self distorted and reshaped into a callus, selfish, inhuman atrocity. The tongue that once dictated passionate recitations and sincere arguments now speaks a vulgar and spiteful language.
                I detest the idea of hatred, or at least I did. But who I evolved into is a disgusting monster. Self-awareness never helped. My voice became an instrument of hate as its range decomposed into an inarticulate scream and whispered threats. The shoulders once held proudly and my back straight with dignity, they know slump and slouch with the weight of the world pushing down on them. Gritting teeth formed a gate to keep the screams of mental anguish inside. My body became horrifying to see. My Bright beautiful eyes lost the shine and color. I was became a blighted human. The hideousness of my body only matched the actions it carried out.
                As often as I’ve had thoughts of humanity, I still couldn’t grasp it. I was aware of my aggressive behavior, and that there are many other solutions but I could not restrain the anger I tried to shackle. Dissimilar to the way it used to be. I was always aware of my own rage, and I once could control it I could keep it from exhibiting itself in my mundane existence. When I the sensation the enticement of rage I ignored and rejected it putting no more thought to it. I viewed the notion of hate as a sickness, a disease. However thinking I could grasp it, the idea that I could control it was so seductive. I desired to feel the sensation of the anger on my fingertips. I longed to taste aggression on my tongue yet I kept the feelings internal hidden away.             
                The more the stress life put and pilled my shoulders the harder it was to welcome the burden. I started to feel it was becoming too much to bare. Sometimes things become too heavy for Atlas. When I had took note that this treatment was creating a parallel between an animal and myself, I dropped the weight and let the world grow dark. I let chivalry die and my respect fade, respect to myself and to others. I tossed out the burden onto many others, forcing them to feel guilt and remorse tear and rip at their hearts.
                The feeling I got was indescribable. It was as if I surrendered my body to the emotion. I felt the rush and got lost in the ecstasy allowing the anger to control me with puppet strings as if I was a willing marionette. My body became warm and weightless. It was a sick form of happiness but I loved it and wanted more. I began to shout at everything that angered me hoping for another angry response. Secretly I believe that when I would get in a fight the other person would like the fighting too. We would form a short symbioses and feed off of each other’s anger. This act would destroy our tact, sometimes causing permanent effects but it was worth it, the sweet feeling of hate, it was so dirty but so amazing.
                I lost old self to anger. I started to want more and more of it. So, I got it. I let the world know that I get what I want. I dropped the proper kid act. I dropped over articulating my words. I talked like a normal kid not the freaky kid. I kept the raw power to myself and realized life is a contest. You need to show power through aggression to get anywhere. Respect must be earned because it is never given. The world will eat you alive and crush you like an insect if you allow others to think they can. It is mind over matter. If you carry yourself as a human being worth anything, people will see it. But the thin about anger is it’s a drug. The angrier you get, the more you need to reach and surpass that level of rage to achieve that happiness.
                Every time I find a way to achieve joy, it gets smashed by something bigger than myself or anything I could create. Like anger, I destroyed my intellect and when I’m not angry, I feel so hurt. I feel sadness. I feel as if the life was stripped from me, as if I depleted it into that one moment of perfection. At least I have become untouchable.