Anger. A controlling sensation of which I have lived with my entire life: an experience of truly horrific re-occurrences.
When I say that my anger is controlling I don’t mean that I have my occasional little tantrums, I go into another state of mind, one of which only a few people have yet seen me in.
It is unimaginably frightful for people around me and even worse for me. It interests me, my anger, and it makes me wonder what a human being is capable of, what lengths a certain emotion could push you to reach and how you would reach them.
I see personalities as masks in a way that people wear them in front of you and it could either be a genuine, kind mask or it could be a stuck up obnoxious mask. These masks are only what we see when we’re with them, but what really goes on inside there heads when they’re alone?
I have a bit of a cocky, arrogant mask in my perspective but when I am alone, that’s when anger kicks in.
As a baby my parents split up and I was bounced consistently from family member to family member. I don’t value their separation but from what I know I can understand why it was necessary. The parting of my Mum and Dad: I believe is why I was, let’s say a ‘troubled child’. I was spoiled as a kid and smothered with crap to distract me from the fact that my family was falling apart.
‘You’re a troubled child' , this was the words of a teacher that worked in my primary school and had just witnessed me fighting with another pupil in the playground. ‘You have to channel your anger before it’s too late’, famous quotes from primary school teachers, but I ask myself now, was I bad? Or was I simply lacking attention and support?
In primary I was not a ‘bad’, ‘disrespectful’ or ‘disobedient’ boy, I was a hardworking individual whose feelings and emotions had to be expressed.
I remember sitting in class and having to put up with people flinging things at me, along with calling me names and pushing me around like I was a no-body.