Concealed revulsions without meanings.
I spent two hours in bed last night, rolling from side to side. Sitting up sometimes, sometimes standing up, then trying to sleep again. I couldn't just make myself fall asleep until I was so tired I couldn't keep my thoughts together anymore and just fell asleep in an instant. For the two hours I felt I had been hit with a fist wrapped in thorns that stuck into my face and wouldn't let go. I'm not exceptionally good with dealing with anger because I always start thinking whether it's a justified feeling, whether I'm allowed to feel anger. What if I'm just making things up, feeling angry for no apparent reason and am making matters worse with these feelings? Matters that wouldn't even have been bad to begin with if I hadn't started creating the thunderstorm inside my head. Last night I had this same problem again. I didn't know whether I could feel angry at something. I decided I could. I felt so misused, wronged. I remember thinking if it would make things better if I were to slam my fists through the walls of my room to stop them from crushing my fragile body under their weight.
I kept saying to myself that the anger will subside once you've fallen asleep and have had your rest for the night. I woke up with a blank stare in my eyes and still felt the same. And the suspicion of whether I'm still allowed to feel the anger returned. My struggle against my thoughts is like waging a war, which you know you can't win. A platoon of rational thoughts against an army of emotionally restraining thoughts. I want to feel anger, be entitled to feel anger. Yet, I feel like I should just clear these negative emotions out of my train of thought, put on a smile and meet the cause of my anger like it had never existed. Nothing's wrong. Just a beautiful Saturday morning with snow melting and birds singing and the want of ramming your head against boards with nails to feed the anger.
.meaningless mess boils inside my head.