  ( Read the post entitled 'Halon' before you read this)  Meh.  ehehhehehe& nbsp;  *
sheepish grin*  Shadow and Hell! nbsp;  It's been a looooong time since I've gone all supernova like that. nbsp;  And that was actually the articulate version of what I was feeling.
 in reality it was so far gone that I couldn't do anything but sit here and literally * shake*  with anger. nbsp; nbsp; After that I&
nbsp; just& nbsp; sat here with a wide- eyed,  'caught with your dick in the neighbor's cat' look.
 Screw it,  it's staying up. nbsp;  It felt good ( almost obscenely so)  to do it,
 felt like coming home. nbsp;  Now I've been struck with a bit of a revelation,  bare with me. nbsp;  The content of that hellfire and brimstone tantrum is a moot point,
 the emotion behind it is the thing that has my half melted noodle wandering into more existential areas. nbsp;  Those of you who have known me for.  ohh,  say the last 4 years or so,  have,
 sadly,  only gotten a tasting of me over the years. nbsp;  Those of you that have known me since god was a boy,  no doubt,  instantly recognized that explosive napalm shitstorm.
nbsp;  That sounded like me years ago,  sounded like me when I was younger,  moodier,  angrier. nbsp;
 Back then I didn't even try to hold anything back,  didn't even try to temper myself or force perspective into every god damn thing I think or feel. nbsp;  I just blew a gasket,  whenever and however I felt one was warranted. nbsp;
 Over the years something has happened to me. nbsp;  I've gotten smarter,  wiser,  a bit more zen and a lot more tough. nbsp;
 I've learned the art of self dissection,  introspection. nbsp;  It's a little bit of logic and a whole lot of pain. nbsp;  Over the years I have learned to curb my impulses,
 especially the emotional quick draws. nbsp;  But somewhere along the way,  I've forgotten that I am a fully functioning human being.  with a full range of human emotions. nbsp;
 I made the mistake of thinking that functioning on pure logic would protect me from anything that could possibly hurt me. nbsp;  I was wrong.  The last year or so of my life has been the hardest time I have ever spent on this god- forsaken shitball called earth. nbsp;
 The reasons are purely insular. nbsp;  I struggled with what I was feeling,  carefully segregating which emotions and expressions were suitable to let out and which weren't. nbsp;  Somewhere along the way I obviously decided that anger,
 rage,  fury,  was something that wasn't to be shown. nbsp;  I swallowed it. nbsp;
 Transformed it into something else,  something softer like melancholy,  bitterness,  regret. nbsp;  And I guess once I got going with that whole exercise it became habit.
nbsp;  Funny thing about regret,  it is a stand alone emotion. nbsp;  But that fucker is like a virus,  once you let it go,
 even for a little bit,  it will dig deep,  uproot,  stifle,  smother and kill all these little parts of you that you most likely didn't even know you had. nbsp;
 Like stepping on a kite before it's even left the ground.  I digress.  It suits me. nbsp;  I wear rage well. nbsp;
 It is no coincidence that my favorite color is evisceration red. nbsp;  I had a knee jerk reaction to my little blow out earlier,  immediately horrified and ashamed by my apparent loss of control. nbsp;  But I couldn't ignore how good it felt,
 how familiar,  how right. nbsp;  Where did my signals get mixed? nbsp;  Where did the wires get crossed?
nbsp;  When someone or something steps on you,  hurts you,  tries to break you,  what do you do? nbsp;
 Conveniently skip over the obvious reactions? nbsp;  We have certain specific reactions for a reason. nbsp;  I'm not saying all of them are justified or even make sense,  there are a lot of really emotionally fucked people in the world.
nbsp;  I am not one of them. nbsp;  For a long time I thought I was,  I assumed I had baggage because everyone told me that I 'should' have baggage. nbsp;
 Everyone told me I should have baggage because they couldn't tolerate the idea that there could ever be anyone without baggage. nbsp;  When did this become acceptable? nbsp;  When did wearing our own scars on our fucking sleeves become 'trendy'? nbsp;
 Just because you like the look of your own scars doesn't mean anyone else wants to see them.  Digressing.  again.  Point is,  I don't want to walk like a three legged dog anymore. nbsp;
 Anger is a part of my arsenal,  I'm damn well going to use it. nbsp;  And I'm going to enjoy it too,  you fuckers. nbsp;
 ( This is addressed to those fucking fluffy- bunny,  anger management,  politically correct whores.  go lick the spit from the people who have no room for you in their ass.
nbsp;  I'm tired of taking my emotional Prozac,  I don't need it,  neither do you,  you ass,  there's no reason to level the entire field of emotions so that they all taste the same,
 look the same,  smell the same. nbsp;  If I feel something it's for a reason. nbsp;  If I feel it strongly then it's for a damn fucking good reason.
nbsp; nbsp; I'm solid in my own modus operandi.  what's your excuse? nbsp;  In other news.
 I went straight back to my writing after I railed about it earlier. nbsp;  If I am hopelessly doomed,  married to this damn beast,  then I'm at least going to put on my blood- red,
 fuck- me heels and do some carnage. nbsp;  I may have failed at a good many things in my life but this is not one of them. nbsp;  So come on,
 bitch.  you know you want me.
