ugly

I hate anger. I hate being at the receiving end of it, but I hate even more being the one to dish it out. The past few days I've revisited the cesspool that can build up inside when you're forced to watch something or someone that is out of control - be it a disease ravishing a helpless child (one of the last things to insight this sort of feeling in me), or someone disrespecting and threatening someone you hold dear (the most recent). The worst part is that somehow as you try and sort through whatever emotions these sorts of things invoke in you, you can't always do it quickly enough, or orderly enough to not affect the people around you. Throw in the general day to day complexities of life and every once in awhile it all comes hurling out in all the wrong directions. Unlike when you're sad, or stressed, and you just need a good cry to let it out and let it go - when you let out anger, it inevitably makes you feel worse in the end. And then you have to confront whether you're someone who can admit when they've made a mistake, say sorry and move on - or whether you're going to cling to that ugliness for a little longer as you try and sort it all out. Ick.