Experiments in Anger - You tell yourself

So you tell yourself, it was worth this misfortune, that patience had no place today. You tell yourself these things because you can feel that familiar throb begin to pulse inside you once again.

 

The moment moves away, seconds into days, days into weeks. Still you tell yourself that you did what you had to, that you had to act when the moment arose. You tell yourself that when your back is against that cold wall that you must push back, push out against that divisive pressure. You tell yourself that to seek solace in reason or compromise is to seek succour from compliance and subjection. You tell yourself that it was you who trod the moral path and you whose actions were justified. You tell yourself these things no matter what you did. You tell yourself these things because you don't want to view it any other way.

 

Time will not stop and your thoughts will not rest. Adrenaline and emotion are replaced by the steady click of cold rationality. Memory fits together a new reality, a less skewed, less favourable scene for you to review. You tell yourself you were controlled and precise but what you see is anxiety and agitation: jerking limbs and lashing words. You tell yourself that you were reasoned and logical but what you see is a stuttering monologue: blustering and stumbling over every word.

 

That scene is no fiction, there is no theatre or drama in the acts that you see. So you tell yourself that it has passed. You tell yourself the moment is gone and the deed is done, that there is no looking back. You tell yourself that the emotion is a memory, that you no longer feel that pain. You tell yourself you're forgiven, that the days and the weeks have cleared your name. You tell yourself that what is unsaid is unfelt. You tell yourself these things because you feel the distance in their proximity and you cannot reach out. You tell yourself these things because you can hear the truth in every twitching joke, can feel what is known about all that you have done.

 

You tell yourself these things even though you know nothing is forgotten, not by you and not by them. You tell yourself these things because you know that every set of eyes views a warped image of you. They see a portrait of arrogance and spite that is everything you were and nothing that you wish to be. You tell yourself these things because it is you who will view that image for the longest time. You tell yourself these things because it is you who will ache for every word that cracked your lips. It is you whose heart will stall when you look back on those seconds. You tell yourself these things but you know that every lost moment can be traced back to that constant thrum of regret. You tell yourself these things because it is that bruising, tireless hum that will scratch away at your patience until it all begins again.

 

And when it does and when you have stumbled once again you will walk away and you will tell yourself that it was worth this misfortune. You will tell yourself that the higher ground was yours. That the fault for your cracking voice and sneering face lie somewhere else. You will tell yourself that you will not be woken in the earliest hours by that relentless beat. You will tell yourself that this time you will not regret a thing. You will tell yourself these things because you have seen the truth of every moment and ached through every day. You tell yourself these things because it is the regret that haunts you and the regret that kills you. You tell yourself these things because there is nothing else you can do.

 

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Taken on January 25, 2009