Anger seems to have become part of my anatomy these days.

When my emotions are at rest, I am cross. When they awaken, I boil.

I somehow have developed a knack for picking up pain in the neck in almost every situation, afterwhich I'll hang on to them like my life depended on them. I nurture them and watch them fester into gaping sores, and then proceed to savour the wretchedness.

I know this isn't the thing to do, but letting go of the affliction just makes me feel as if I'm shortchanging myself. If it's a paper cut, I won't be satisfied until it drips blood. If it's a knock, the blue-black better be as dark as it can get.

Ok, I think I'm getting a little carried away with my analogies and they are starting to sound perverse, but come to think of it, isn't unappeasable anger a form of perversion? You refuse to let go of your anger towards something/someone because you want to punish this something/someone which/whom you think has wronged you. At the end of the day, you are the one who gets tipped off balance emotionally, while the life of the other party goes on. You know your anger has NO effect whatsover on the wronger, but you simply refuse to walk away because you are irrationally hoping against hope that if you boil long enough, the wronger will realise his folly and admit his silliness. (Right, like when I get angry with the weather long enough, it will start snowing here in Singapore. And like if I get pissed enough, the neuron count/nerve ends of incompetent/insensitive people will miraculously multiply.)

I hate this me that I am now. I feel unpleasant, stupid and downright ugly.

I have a healthy neuron count. I should know better.

Just walk away Let it go, Jacq.