I watched a drama.
Throughout the drama, there was a girl who never got mad at anyone. Even the girl who ruined her life, the boy who ruined her life, everything that took her wealthy away, her company, the love of her life, she never got mad at anything. I questioned her–isn’t she at least a little mad?
She was upset, but never really showed it. I got upset, too, because it was just so frustrating how she could just forgive people like that. I rolled my eyes at the antagonists and cursed a million times in my mind. But she always had that helpess face on– the same one every time– that said– my bad.
I asked myself if I would be doing the same. Maybe not. But there is one thing that I am sure of: I have never gotten mad at anyone, none of my friends, my family, or my boyfriend. I never start fights. Do I sound like an angel? Maybe.
As I type this with knitted eyebrows, I ask myself, why is it that I never get mad at people? Today, I finally thought of an answer. Is it because of my personality? Is it because of my experiences? Or because I am selfish and afraid? Or because I’m just one twisted, nasty devil? It’s everything combined.
I remember that throughout my life, people have always gotten mad at me. There were always friends or family members who would give me the cold shoulder, yell at me, take away my rights, hit me, …
not talk to me for ages…
It is that feeling that I get– that knitted eyebrow feeling when I know that something is coming about. That feeling that the person next to me is getting pissed at something I just said or something I said. That feeling that a fight is about the break. Like the break of dawn and the break of silence, when thousands of birds fly into the sky because someone has dropped something– like that one moment when everything will fly into chaos. It’s that feeling that I want to avoid. I hate it; I don’t like it.
That is why I don’t get mad at anyone. Because I don’t want to spread that same, bad feeling.
There is a lump in my throat that I could not get rid of. I looked it up– the most common cause is stress. It’s the stress that has been building up, leaving me with nothng to hide, nothing to do, nothing to talk about. It’s that stress that makes me want to cry. That lump in my throat is telling me– it’s ok. I’m here, whenever you want to cry. And whenever you finish crying, I’m out of here.
I haven’t cried, I haven’t let anything out. Do I want to torture myself? Keep that lump in my throat? I ask myself. It’s not that. It’s just that I don’t know why that lump is getting bigger and bigger. I don’t even know why it’s there in the first place. But whenever my brain goes into override mode I go into the darkness again and that lump simultaneously begs at me to help let it out. But I don’t. Because I genuinely cannot notice anything in my life that is causing it. I want to get rid of it, but I don’t know where to start