Anger is stupid.
First we blame the outside world.
Then we blame ourselves.
First we blame the outside world, then we blame ourselves.
We never enquire into the meaning of it.
We are angry and we get aggressive to the world and then we are feeling bad and we call it madness and denounce it and preach stoic ideals because we are so fucking civilised.
It’s all the same — because we never truly address the issue.
The anger is never dissolved — it is always there. Either we express it in a hair-raising rage, or we quench it inside of us, seething with quiet hate into the world. And then it’s triggered again.
Suppressing anger is as stupid as getting angry. More civilised — yes. Don’t really remember why that would be something good, though.
How (the fuck) could you get angry again had you addressed the cause? How could a situation reoccur had you dealt with it’s root?
You think you are better then your anger but you ARE your anger. YOU are NO DIFFERENT then your anger. As you continue to deny it, it only takes greater hold of you.
You never address the cause. You never go to the root. You always want an immediate consolation, you always seek a superficial solution.
You always DENY what is you are not pleased to know about yourself. You deny you are such an animal, you deny you get angry and emotional and say stupid things.
I say — without probing into your anger, without enquiring into it — you will only perpetuate it.
All the fancy stoic ideals won’t help you. It’s just a nice toy, unless you want to get serious.
If you are serious, I seriously proclaim that:
It’s far better to break your boss’s nose, then to quench your frustration indefinitely.
It’s far better to throw your computer out of the window, then it is to continue whatever stupid thing you forced yourself to do.
It’s far better never to enter the car again, then to dread your life in the traffic jams.
And it’s far better to DO NOTHING till your DEATH then it is to DIE FRUSTRATED.
With that said – all that is stupid.
One can go through life ENLIGHTENED by his own anger, knowing one’s standards and the extent to which one would ever let his life be filled with things that bring anything less then a smile on one’s face.