i’m not angry, i...

By Piper Mullaney

was never taught how to express anger. if someone annoyed me, i was angry. if someone said something to upset me, i was angry. if someone was mean, i was angry. i was taught emotions like i was taught primary colors. happy = yellow, sad = blue and angry = red, but what if i’m not angry? what if i’m more than that? how do i express the rage that consumes me like a rotting corpse, decomposing into the earth until only earth remains? how do i explain that i feel like a dragon and the fire that builds in my throat erupts as shrill shrieks, causing third-degree burns and burst blood vessels? how do i explain the bruises, broken bones and open wounds that litter my hands after abusing my steering wheel, blow after blow, only stopping when it fights back? how do i express that no amount of “fucking bitch ass mother fuckers, fucking piece of shit-eating dicks and fuck-fucking fuckers” can symbolize how angry i am? maybe red is associated with anger because that’s all i ever see. red rage that rises to a heart-failing level, blinding my every thought, word, and action. no amount of blue tears can extinguish its fire and no yellow sun burns brighter than the blaze in my eyes, but i’m exhausted, and i want to be extinguished.