The Thoughts of a Perfectly Imperfect Teenager

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Anger

I can be so angry, that sometimes, I believe I have real anger issues. I try not to get into a lot of fights because I know that seeing a loved one hurt will hurt me way more than someone’s fists ever will.

Sometimes, things come out of my mouth, and I think I shouldn’t have said that, but usually, it’s not that bad.

A couple days ago, I just flipped out. I was talking to a boy at lunch, helping him out with personal family problems. I try not to involve myself with the “snotty” girls, and you know who I mean. And they’re humans, and I respect that, but you can’t help it when someone comes up to you, literally instigating an argument.

“Can’t you ever just let anyone deal with their own shit?” she snapped, looking at me with her hands on her hips, “Hilariously, you can barely deal with your own crap and can’t even communicate with people properly.”

I cringed at the emphasis of the last word, but I wasn’t going to just let her walk away. She stepped into a conversation that was about to get ugly. I jumped up and met eye to eye with her.

“What?! What do you want me to say? How I go home feeling like a complete idiot? Or how about how the people who should understand, don’t understand me at all? Or, hey! How about that time when my “friends” ended up not being my friends at all and completely betrayed me? Or all those times I go to bed crying? I know what you think. I can tell what you’ve been through, and I tell you, I tell everybody, I’m just like you, I literally go through the exact, same things. Nobody listens, and I do understand what it feels like to be let down because I am human, and I have feelings too! Surprise, surprise! Is that what you want me to talk and “communicate” about? Is that what you wanted to hear? Because congratu-freaking-lations, you just did! And I could talk about my life like a normal person and go on and on about whatever you want to talk about, but to be honest, it’s the fact that no one wants to listen.”

The words tumbled out of my mouth, and once they started, I couldn’t stop. Not until she interrupted me.

"And?" she asked, “You think I care? Who even cares about you? You can’t just fit in where you want, Emmalina, and that’s life, so-”

“Can’t you just leave me alone, for God’s sake?” I said, pinching my wrist so I wouldn’t cry, “Why do you keep bothering me and talking about me and wanting to pull something out of me, when you know I don’t want to talk about things like that? I’m sorry, okay? Please! I’ll try to start caring less, okay? I never wanted to make you or anyone else mad, okay? I can’t ever open my mouth without causing some damage.”

“I get it, ” I begged, “just please go right now.”

She looked at me, and I could tell she was processing what I said. And then she left.

Oh, we’re back on talking terms now, and she’s the type of person who gets into arguments with anyone and then will get over it right away.

It just feels awful, you know, when you just blow up, and then there’s that cool down moment afterwards, and you think, “Why in the world did I just do that?”

And then there’s that wonderful feeling of finding someone who understands your anger. Even if their problems aren’t like yours.

It’s so rare and so special and so amazing, that all my anger slips away. My throat becomes tight with the need to cry, with the surprise of finally having someone who understood - who struggles not just with everything and everyone around them, but with themselves.

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