I have a small assortment of important things to proclaim, and its vexes me. See, in my opinion, the most important things to say are always the hardest things to say because words do them no justice. Words diminish and detract from the urgency and importance of what people have to say, but i pray that the heaviness and severity of my words outweigh whatever may take away from this note. Whelp, here goes everything!
There is an old proverb that states "He who conquers his anger has conquered an enemy." Unfortunately, I have seemingly conquered every foe EXCEPT for, well, anger. I see it in the eyes of those close to me, who know me. My brothers haven't been the only people to see down the crevice that I have stored this vast bundle of animosity inside of. I urge you, do not be deceived by the off-putting false smiles and the sacrificial jokes I tell for the benefit of the people I care about. Ever since I was released from that confinement cell back at Vandevender Detention Center, I made it a habit to seem happy, to seem content. It was a fairly joyful illusion. I always thought I was doing the decent thing; bottling up some vile festering hatred for just about everything I laid eyes on, and selling it to my friends and family as bottled water with a label on it reading "Everything's O.K." I was taught by that bastard---I mean my "Father"---that real mean take it all in stride and let nobody in. Realmean show no pain, no weakness, they curb their enthusiasm, and let hateful bygones be bygones. I was the perfect little machine. To an extent, I still am.
Make no mistake, I'm not whining. Actually, I'm proud of my cold-heartedness. I take great pride in the outstanding fury that I keep so brilliantly concealed behind being funny and goofy. It's not me I'm worried about, it's those around me. Lately my anger has been seeping out in small controlled bursts, and it's been fucking around all the things I hold close. It's terrifying, and ironic at the same time. I'm contradicting myself by letting my rage push away people I love. I desperately need an outlet, because I fear that one day this mass of wrath will ruin me! I'm honestly afraid of the Jamell that once was. The one that wanted revenge on the world just because he was born. Is there nothing I can do? I want to be happy, not appear happy. Those around me can see it, my brothers and play-momma have made note of it. Eventually, all volcanoes erupt. I am fearful, but the best thing about fear is that fear itself is just another form of ignorance. And just like ignorance, fear can be temporary. Just as long as a proper remedy is around.
So I inquire you, as a self-tortured man afraid of losing those who care about him. As a man with nowhere to direct this vehement energy he's accumulated ever since his release from incarceration. As a man with ALOT of love to give, and nobody to give it to (which only makes me MADDER! UGH!) What should I do? I'm on the verge of collapsing in on myself, and I need to heal these wounds, or at least lick them, before this stress and dormant hostility overtake me. Honestly, the process has already begun.
-Spann
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