I've done more things because I was angry than I have anything else.
I've had more sex with more people than I can remember because I was angry. I've eaten enormous amounts of food because I was angry. I've spent thousands of dollars I didn't have because I was angry. I have cut off yards of hair because I was angry. I have run more miles on the pavement & the treadmill because I was so pissed off I couldn't sit still.
Anger can make me do horrendously stupid things like having a public bitch fest just because I can, start AND finish a fight just because I can and worst of all ~ hurt deeply the ones that I love the most.
I've struggled in the past 10 years of my life to get a grip on my temper - to master my anger so that I am the boss of it and it is not the boss of me. To act in anger is to admit that one is not in control of ones self, that one is ruled & held hostage by ones appetites.
No one can truly be free to make a conscious choice when they are always enthralled by the whims of their appetites.
My dad used to say that to me. That I'd never get anywhere as long as I let my stomach tell me what to do. I used to resent that a lot. Until I got older & really thought about what it was he was really saying. He was telling me that I had to learn discipline, so I could discipline myself & make myself strong enough to be truly free to believe the things I do.
It isn't enough for me to discipline my anger. I have to know what the source of it is. So I can get to root of it & weed it out before it consumes me.
I've been angry with someone who considers me a dear friend. That anger led me to blocking this person out of my life for years. And why was I angry? Not because he got married & is happy. Not because he was a coward for most of our time together. Not even because he was still having sex with someone else(s) while he was with me. No, none of that seriously ticked me off. That kind of stupid happens & I can understand it & forgive it. We're all human.
I'm angry because he had the damn nerve to tell me to my face that he'd told his wife-to-be that all I was was just a fling.
A Fling. Ten years of my life & love. A wrecked marriage. And he could only define me as a FLING.
And Mister if you're reading this right now - I'm still angry about that. You could've told her (& me) the truth - that I was your friend and your lover and something else more complicated that you don't have words for. You could've even said I was your cousin which although very embarrassing - is also true.
But a fling?
Well okay then. And that's why (idiot) when I left Samoa, I refused to see you or speak to you or have anything to do with you. Its the reason why when you were looking for me, I made sure there was no one left to tell you where I was. Its the biggest reason why when you moved here, I made damn sure you couldn't find me until you did, one day when I wasn't paying attention.
And what did you have the nerve to ask me after not seeing my lovely curvy ass for nearly 8 years? I think your litany of questions went like this: Who's baby is that? Did you think I forgot you? Did you think we weren't friends? Do you know how long I've been looking for you?
Oh? Really? Whatever for are you looking for me for?
Let me clue you in how angry I am about that just in case you missed it because you're a man after all & I can understand how testosterone clouds your logic - that was over 10 years ago.
And here you are asking for my FRIENDSHIP?
Like we're friends? Like I ought to care about anything you do or say?
Yeah, I'm angry about that one thing because how the hell are you going to dismiss all that you & I ever were to each other with that one word: Fling. Every single minute & second I spent in your arms, in your bed, in your mind - nothing. Because it was just a fling. Every kiss, every laugh, every hug - nothing. Because it was just a fling. All of my tears, my smiles, my letters & phone calls for you - nothing. Because it was just a fling.
FLINGS aren't friends, Mister. Flings are temporary f*cks that one forgets as soon as it happens. Flings are what you do when you like someone well enough to bang them but not enough to ask them their first name. It's a WhamBamThankYouMa'am. Flings are what I do when I catch someone else's thongs in my car seat/bedding covers.
(Had I known then what I know now, I never would have given you as much time & thought & love as I did. It would've been better for me to have poured my love down the sewer drain because at least then the rats could feast on it & be happy.)
Because if I ever loved someone, I loved you. I still love you because if I didn't love you, your dumb ass would so be dead right now. If I'm going to go to jail for murder it ought to be for someone who I thought was worth becoming a lesbian for since that's all I'd been getting in the slammer.
If I loved you even one shade less than I do right now - you wouldn't be safe from me.
*breathing in slow & deep*exhaling through the nose*repeat*
Angry. Is just another word for hurt.
And no I haven't forgiven you for it yet. Obviously. Since even after this whole long post, what I want to do is call you up & cuss your ass out. Which I will not give you the satisfaction of hearing me do because that wouldn't be a fling does.
With love & delicious anger,