Letters

Thirteenth Letter

Dear Anger,

You are in many people's lives. But I will be telling you on how you are in my life. First of all, a little bit of love for you: I HATE YOU. Yes, I do. Why?

You've always been in my life and you always show up fast in any situation. The years go by and you grow bigger and bigger and stronger, overpowering my weak body.

I lose it fast, I snap fast, I act fast.

When I was little, I threw whatever was near by. Or kicked. Once, I threw a metal scooter to my brother.

When I was a teenager, anger turned into selfharm. I started cutting, hitting myself with things. I screamed and threw my door. Grabbed the fans from the head and threw it against my door. Threw my iPod to my metal windows. Threw books at the door.

Now as an adult, I throw things, cut myself, hit myself, scream, cry ... I destroy myself.

This anger of me makes me suffer. My anger makes me want vengeance. Makes me want to hurt others like I am hurt.

A tiny once said: Fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, hate leads to suffering. My fear is getting angry and hurting myself or someone.

My anger gets me jealous. Gets me feel insecure. Makes me feel stress. When you get so strong I start to cry. I don't cry much.

You bring me anxiety, bipolar, depression. I know you do. How? I don't know but I feel it.

You destroy my relationships with everyone because you intertwine in them and I can't control myself. I ask God to take you away. To get the hell out of my life. Writing this letter, you're already coming in. Even the things I love to do, you may intertwine. Fuck you.

Hates, with all my life, Alondra.