Battleangel

[unhinged rant] For as long as I can remember I’ve been plagued by fits of aggressive tendencies. It is nothing I am particularly proud of and thankfully something that has become less common over the years.
At first I hoped it was simply a matter of maturity and that it would all stabilize with age. For a while it seemed like a safe assumption. However, as I mature I am also able to distance myself from those things in life that foster my hate and aggression. So, I have come to believe, there is no positive correlation between mental age and aggression (in my case). It’s just a question of zigzagging the obstacles and thinking it will go away. And maybe it will. I’m not exactly at the end if line yet. All I’m saying is that I hoped to gain greater control over my emotions than I have up to this point. Even if controlling one will mean crippling the others. Scarce but clear regressions remind me of what I’d rather not be. Or what do I want?

I am at the same time curious as to why all of this came to be. Is it something hereditary, either by genetic or social traits? Or is it a reaction to the clearly unsuitable environment outside of the family that I was exposed to while growing up? First devoid of interaction with peers and then with those that did not respect my integrity. I assume it is a question of trying to get back at an unfair world every way that you can. Things past that are knocking on your door, crying out for blind retribution. That perhaps is the biggest problem. Like so many others I tend to bottle up anger only to release it at a later time. At someone who no doubt deserves it to a degree but never to the full extent. I mean, either you act on it there and then or never bother with it again. At least I have gotten better in this aspect. If it really is better.
Hours and yet hours in the woods, alone, with metal pumping thru my head. Like so many others seeking out exactly what I should avoid. Like flies to honey. Nurturing the qualities that you should shun. Ironic but predictable.
Shivering, cold and sweating, after the adrenaline rush has worn off. Like a aggression junky. The disgrace and panic overloading your brain, crippling all attempts at rational thought. That is surely the worst part. Because losing control and all reason is a defeat of the senses. Having the opportunity to redeem, but using that short time to protect the self. And to hurt once more. Knowing what is right but not setting it right. That is the worst crime of all.

“Luckily” I am still bound by a differentiation of roles. Private, public and foremost the roles of being alone and with others. I wonder what it would take to break those limitations and roam free. And what the result would be. Having a bad feeling about it, I still can’t help wonder. I am not one to believe in fatalism .. but given who I am and what I cannot undo, maybe that is my “destiny” after all.

There is one speculation that keeps recurring above others. The feeling that I am out of time and out of place. Both presently and from a historical standpoint. Haven’t we all felt that at one time or another?
Where would I have been 100 years ago, 200 years ago or half a millennia ago? What purpose would I have served then and how does it relate to the present. The logical assumption is that I would have sailed the seven seas, looking for a smidgen of excitement but also as a way to get away from it all, constantly being on the move and having no ties to anyone. You know what they say: “He who knows the past commands the future”. Just find the repeating patterns and what is tried and true. Change and conservation; past, present and future in one perfect blend.