option number 3

i have such pent up anger over such insignificant minutia that i can barely write tonight. and i only noticed that i could barely write shortly after noticing that i could barely speak. i don’t really know what to do with anger. i’d rather not have it. or any of its toxic manifestations. bitterness, remorse, vindictiveness. all of these things i would prefer to steer clear of,  within or beyond myself. anger is for angry people and i am not an angry person. i’m really not.

but this downpour of anger has swallowed me up and rendered me inarticulate. so now what should i do? should i wait for it to diffuse? can i channel it in some constructive way, such as formulating a strategy to escape the circumstances that brought me down to this condition? can i hope that something will align within the universal construct of possibilities to rescue me and take me to a different place? a better place would be nice, but right now i will settle for a different place.

right now, i’m leaning towards that third option. that sounds like the best. what would you do?

About The Lost Pedestrian

In my wanderings throughout the moments/days/years, I try in earnest to find the mystical within the mundane and the mundane within the mystical, oftentimes confusing one from the other. I have wandered and roamed through many a city, many a town, in a state of wonder and bewilderment, without necessarily going anywhere. I am easily lost, but eventually found. (I am guessing you have just found me). My sincere hope is that you will find Something in this warehouse of thought, memory and false memory, words, numbers, tangents, murmurs, echoes (lots and lots of echoes), voices, dreams, and other paraphernalia.
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