“Anger is a gift”


I sit or try to, breathing has become everything short of impossible. The first wave of emotions has already hit like an old steam engine, hot and dirty, It has devoured every ability I have to fight it. So I submit and sit. The sweat starts in my palms first, then I feel it rolling down my back before I notice the sting of it in my right eye. As I try and take a drink of water, the glass in my hand is shaking at about a 6.8 on the Richter scale. The next wave comes on so slow that I don’t notice it until it has completely throttled me. I’m sweating, but I feel cold. I feel like I am in a room full of strangers and everyone looks the same, faceless and without fear. My vision is blurry. I am not sure if it is from the sweat drowning my eyes, or the fact that my heart is pounding like a fucking sledgehammer and about to break through my chest. Trying to regain composure in moments like these is like trying to change the weather. Time doesn’t stand still, that is  too fast. Its now repeating itself. I open my mouth to speak or something and what comes out freaks me out. I hear the screams of everyone I have ever hurt like a thousand symphony at once.The ability to close my mouth escapes me.This goes on for what seems like an eternity. When it stops the next wave of emotion sneaks in like the cold on a winter night. I am beyond scared now. Shame, sadness, anxiety are just a couple of the things the clown in my head is juggling. I reaching, scratching for whatever I can to hold on to so I can feel just one thing, shit just ten things I would settle for.Its like trying to grab a handful of water though. Sitting still is becoming increasingly harder by the second. I wet with sweat. I can taste the salt from my tears raining down my cheeks. My stomach does flips. My head is swirling, thoughts, emotions have escalated to whatever is after light speed. Everything is brighter. My whole body has pins and needles. I manage to pick up the only weapon I have besides my Bible, my pen.My hand can barely keep up with the out of control raging freight train in my head or my sledgehammer heart,  Slowly, vision returns, and breathing becomes a possibility if I could remember how. Thoughts slow to a pace barely recognizable, and are rattling around in my head like a box of jacks.The tingling slows and it feels as if I am being put back into my body. My heart now beats with the pulse of the lava being pumped through my fish net veins. Still can not talk. Who would listen to this though. Who would I tell? When this shit happens I used to as much dope as I could without dying, and a few times I did. Even though it gets scary, I sit and take it today. Its like trying to let the bogey man get you in your nightmares, but I always wake up right before he grabs me. Thats what happens here. I feel like each time I get closer to something happening.

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