Nostrils flared, fists clenched, fingernails digging into my palm, teeth gritting together so tightly I fear they might shatter into a million pieces; my inner demon overcomes me. My head throbs with such an intense motion and my heart is nearly beating out of my chest. I breathe heavily, fighting back the tears that completes the whole emotional cycle; but it is too late. I am not the same girl anymore; I am possessed by a monster. My brain no longer controls my diction and I utter hateful, harmful, heartbreaking words. The monster that I became has one goal, and that is to hurt, hurt, and hurt. Make them suffer like the petty girl inside the hard shell that once was me. I blackout when I am angered, I have no sense of consciousness.
Ten minutes later, the damage is done. I awake in a daze, unable to recollect the memory of what happened in my rage. My anger is like a drug in the sense that it impairs my judgement, deteriorates my well-being, and destroys my relationships. I know my friends treat me differently; they use careful wordings to not disrupt the dragon. On more than one occasion, someone has admitted to me that they dread sharing an opposing opinion as mine, in fear of the lacerations I cause on their delicate hearts. My family has grown accustomed to my temper, they laugh and joke, telling people “Trust me, she doesn’t just get mad, she gets furious!” Irritated by their comments, I feel insulted. But then I realize that they are the truth, and I hate myself because it is all true. Hate that I have this ugly demon who escapes me over trivial matters. But most of all, hate that I do not do something about it.
I cannot conclude why I allow this anger to take over my entire body, and when I say my entire body, I definitely mean it. Think about a time when you were immensely upset, and I do not mean being a little annoyed. I mean ugly, scrunched up face, head explosion, “I’m about to punch someone in the gut,” upset. Imagine yourself constantly in that phase, incapable of having any other setting on your anger scale. That is me. I have no in between; I have a “neutral” setting, where I am not happy about the situation I am in, and a “full on infuriated” setting. The second setting is self-explanatory; I am the hulk, basically, in a five-foot-two, ninety pound teenage girl’s body. I pounder at times about how all this furry is able to be contained in such a tiny body, and then I chuckle at the fact that it clearly is not.
So clear that I acknowledge the dirt-bag teenager I am and still do nothing to become a better human-being. I’ve heard it said that acknowledging you have a problem is the first step of recovery from addiction. Perhaps I have an addiction to being angry, and perhaps I can recover from it. I know this is not the person I want to be, so I need to discover the solution to my problem. My mother has been telling me for years that I need to stop sweating the small stuff and to relax, but I do not believe that I am capable of relaxing. I try time and time again to have patience with people but it is harder than I anticipate. I now recognize that having faith in me is the most essential step to my recovery. If I do not imagine myself improving, how do I expect to ever progress?
Well I have had enough of this demon, and I am determined to get rid of it. I need to expel all negative thoughts from my mind, soul, and body. Relax and prevent myself from going into a blackout rage. I must realize that when my nose starts to flare, and my teeth start to grit, it is crucial for my health to ease up before my finger nails begin to dig into my own skin. Perhaps I need to escape my current setting, take a break from society and release my inner darkness in the wilderness. Yes, that is what I need to do: release my inner darkness and never allow it come back. I ought to replace the demon with compassion for others, and that is precisely what I will do this upcoming summer.