I might claim to have known her for my whole life, because I have memories of her from a very young age. I don’t think however that would have been true. So, I say I have known her for as long as I can remember. She popped into my life to fill blank spaces, at least that’s how I see it. For instance, one of the first times I met her was when I was denied what I believed to be my right. My parent might have taken something from me without a good reason. I remember then the blankness that occupied my puzzled mind wondering why I couldn’t have it! Then she showed up, hot and demanding. She filled up the blankness and moved me to action. I threw a mighty tantrum, added some hot tears and shrieks that dissolved my parents into willing givers. Once I got my way, I looked at my new friend with awe and delight. I realized that she was a great friend to have and I made a decision to keep her close.
And thus, our friendship grew with my advancing age. She saw me through my first attempts to social interactions and even my first romance. And every time something went wrong, I could call on her. When I failed my first exam, she stood by me reminding me that I did everything right and the teacher might be threatened by me. When I lost my first best friend after telling her secret, she stood by me and reminded me that I did the right thing. She stood by me through a lot; so much that what started as hurt would dissolve into a solid resolve in my gut. She made me cry sometimes, but not light cleansing tears that clear the knots from your chest. She made me cry red, hot and acidic tears that fell from a tight chest and short breath. She made me scream sometimes, like a wounded beast cursing the universe for its misfortune. She even made me destructive at times, then I would want to spoil everything that happened; throw on walls, rip off fabric, tear through layers of flowers…
After she left to mind her own business, I would find myself surrounded by ruins; words I couldn’t take back, burned souvenirs I couldn’t get back, bleeding knuckles from hitting walls, swollen eyes from hot tears, sourness in my belly… So much destruction in such a short time! I didn’t like the aftermath, but I also didn’t want to lose my friend. Despite all that I broke because of her, her presence gave me strength. She lit a fire inside of me that set my being into motion like an engine. I honored her and gave her a name, ANGER.
Anger and I stayed friends for many, many years. She grew with me, she became a part of me. The longer I lived, the more and heavier tragedies I met. I lost a parent and every part of me deflated. Anger came and stood by me, lighting a fire in my belly so that I screamed and cursed, I cried and stormed. It didn’t feel better, it didn’t even feel good, but it was alive and better than blankness. So much happened, and the two of us grew closer and closer until we were almost one. She didn’t need to light a fire in my belly anymore, she shared it and became my belly. I walked with anger, I brewed inside my chest. I was anger myself.
One day after a strong moment of anger, I woke up in the middle of spoils and evidence of all my destruction. I looked around at the torn connections, wounded souls, destroyed relationships, broken glass, … for the first time I got scared by what I could do with anger. I started wondering why anger and I were friends. I tried to recall how she came to be my friend and a big part of me. Did I meet her through somebody I knew? How were we introduced? Did I find her on the side of the street?
I had so many questions for her and I realized that I didn’t know much about her aside from how I react with her. I realized that she might be with me for a reason. What made her so hot and restless? Why do I react like that with her? It occurred to me that I may have a better chance of finding the right answers if I got to know her better. So, I called her to me and introduced myself;
“Greetings, Anger. My name is Person”.
And she said;
“Hello dear Person, it’s so nice to finally know you. My name is GRIEF”.