A History Of Violence

My emotions are a pretty strange thing. One moment I can see the world for all it's life and beauty, the next I get carried away with the future and absolutely enraged at the present.

I have so much anger inside me, from who knows how many places. But I've yet to find a way to release it. Or, a plausible one at least. I can't expect to just beat someone up every time I should feel the need.

I think I'm tired of living my fears. Being alone, specifically. Everything is beautiful, and I see that, but when everything is not beautiful - how come there's no one to show me that it is?

It's as if I'm right on the cusp of having everything I've ever wanted, and yet it's not fully there.

Today, I suppose I was not in the most desperate of needs, but it was still valid. I'm so tired, tired of searching for comfort. All I needed was one moment. But it was not to be - and like a child, I broke down. But at least I admitted that, I was angry. That is the first step, right? Now, there are so many things I need to do. To find a way to get this anger out.

I've been left alone in my moments of greatest pain, and a hurt like that does not settle easily. I can't pretend like it's not there anymore. These fears are very real, and very justified.

But I cannot sit here passive to their daunting form. I need to make something of it. Need to scream, to lash out at something - be it paper, flesh, anything.

There is a reason things like this aren't meant to be pent up. One day everything breaks and it all goes to Hell - I've seen it before, in my mother, and I never want to end up like her.

I love my wife, and I won't let my anger pull us apart.

I've written myself two notes as a "to do" list, and stuck them on the side of my computer. The list reads:

Don't be mean

Talk. Solve problems.

In The Night

Late last night, around midnight, I was talking to my sister online. Her parents are away on a cruise so she is home alone, and she was lonely. I offered to come to her place and keep her company, which she was happy about. During the walk to her place, I thought...this is really the kind of person I want to be.

I'm just getting used to the practice of love towards friends. Well, getting re-used to it. I lost it when I was a child, after my pack dissapated. I want to be a good person within my friend group and build a strong community to interact with as I grow older. However, I was always afraid I was too "antisocial" in order to achieve something like this.

But I know that I would love a close knit family for her children and (possibly) mine to be raised in. I never had that growing up, but I think that it would do a child well.

Seeing as I want to fulfill my calling as a housewife (or, homemaker), it is a good place for me to start - stregnthening my family bonds within my friendgroup. I see no reason why my passion cannot be communal, in fact I think it could be very helpful.

I am hopeful about my future. I think about it and am happy. I know that my wife is worried, but I'm not. I know as long as we have eachother things will be ok. Our world was built by people who had nothing to their name but love. She is afraid of being the breadwinner, and sometimes I feel bad for placing that burden on her - but I know that because of this, she will all the more need my care and devotion as a wife and homemaker. It is not as if I refuse to work, should we need...but I would worry about her health if she didn't have someone like me looking after her.

It's not surprising

"Does that mean you don't care if I cry?"

"I do care"

"Ok..."

"I'm just saying it's not surprising."

I'm not going to lie, that I do cry a lot. Probably more than the "average" person. But that doesn't mean it should be taken lightly.

I don't know what it is with me and crying. It's been like that since I was a little kid. I'd go to call on my friend, and if she wasn't allowed to play I'd cry all the way home (which was thankfully just around the corner).

Now it seems to be emerging even more. I cry at school. They all probably think I'm a nutcase. But at least its not as bad as it was earlier this year.

I'm not trying to make her feel bad, by acting like this - although, maybe I am. I know I shouldn't be trying to make her feel bad. But it doesn't mean I don't try it sometimes. Maybe this is what my mother meant when she said I was manipulative?

But no, because it doesn't work. Even if I try to make her feel bad she won't. Or won't show it. Which might be good, since she shouldn't be feeling bad anyway. I only want her to be happy but...sometimes it'd be nice to see she cares.