Anger

I’m writing this to help me contemplate what I’m doing - what I’m going  through. 

That boy, full of novelty, is right.

I am violent. I am angry. I would go so far to say that beneath this blood, bone and sinews, my base element is a mix of vile desperation and ambition. 

But I respect the broad rules of the game. That violence, that anger, is so precious that it is never to be wasted on the cheapness of physicality or even the subtle raising of one’s voice. 

Just like policy, anger is best thought of as an unruly horse. Flirt with it, ignorant and hopeful, and it will leave you disfigured and broken. 

But if you break it - you smash it to pieces. You confront that anger, you isolate that anger, you make it a slave to your goals. Then you tap into something else altogether. 

It is the infinite of possibility. The refusal of limits. The constant, never ending stride.

I have embraced this. I will embrace this. I will never be ashamed of what I am. I will never try to be anything but what I am.

Perfect, violent and angry. 

This is not to be interpreted as some egotistical tirade - for that perfection exists in everyone, but it is the strong that recognize it. I do not pity the weak, I pity those who can’t recognize strength - in themselves or others. 

I’ve mastered power, gab and books. I’m weak on physicality. I will continue to train almost every day to build a new armour.