When I was young, I was just misunderstood. My mind was wired to work a certain way, and when my expectations didn't come to fruition, I responded with anger.
There was little to be done at the time. But that was when the seed was planted.
As a child, my anger was loud and aggressive--I'd flail around, kicking and screaming, oblivious to the world around me. I never hurt anyone--I've never held violent intent to another human being--but my anger was frightening.
As I got older, the anger began to quiet down externally.
Internally, the anger festered.
I glared at the world. I judged everyone around me. My bouts of anger got worse.
It was around this time that I truly began to experience my religion.
It was around this time that I began the hard road away from the dark and into the light.
It's been a hard road. An anger so large doesn't just disappear... But it can be managed.
Whenever my anger returns, I try and remember my God, and to ask that He bring me peace.
I'm not perfect. I don't always remember. Sometimes I do, and I refuse to ask for peace out of angry selfishness and spite.
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