3/12/2020
Seventy silver spoons

I remember when I was angry... well, angrier about a lot of things. I remember when I still felt the freedom to express that anger, whether by raising my voice at whoever's unlucky to be on the other end of the conversation, or through these essays.

I remember people always telling me that I should stop being so angry at the world. That I should chill out. That I should look at the positive side of things.

I didn't really want to do it, but I guess I did. Not to change my perspective or anything. Perhaps, I don't know, it was a mental exercise. At least, if I disagreed with the other side to something, I should understand that there's a valid reason, most of the time, for them to see things they way they did, which just happens to be diametrically opposed to how I saw it.

I don't know. I'm not sure if that gave me a little more peace of mind. I mean, I'm having palpitations more often these past few months and I'm honestly not sure if I've got a heart condition or more serious anxiety than I assumed. But, at the very least, I learned to drop some of the arguments. Or maybe not learned, but more of conditioned myself to do so, begrudgingly. I don't know. I can't really say I actively did it, so that's me taking away the potential satisfaction of those who advised, begged, me to not be so angry.

I mean, it doesn't necessarily mean I agree with their world view. I still won't do that. I'm not sorry for seeing things differently. It's not because I'm smarter - that is always questionable - but because that's just what I do. But I think I'm not as angry anymore.

They, however, are angry. Really angry.

I get it, though. There really are a lot of reasons to be angry. We realize we're trying to work our hardest only to get nowhere, because the system has always been stacked against us, unless we happen to be born with seventy silver spoons. We realize what we've been told about how we can achieve our dreams if we put our mind to it doesn't really apply to every one. We realize the things our parents are realizing: that the change we want to see won't happen in our lifetimes. But that mindset has made them stubborn and stuck in the past, and we know that's bad, and we don't really want to be that. We don't want to be hypocrites. And so we become angry: at the world, at our elders, at our institutions, at whatever, really.

I want to be angry, too, but I've been told, over and over again, that I shouldn't. So I chill out a bit, look at the positive.

They demand I get angry, because they said so.

They demand I be afraid, because they are, too.

I wonder if it's because times are different now, and what worked then wouldn't work now. But how come what I think isn't as valid as what you think? How come what I did was wrong until you did it? And then I feel like what I've felt before: ganged up on, invalidated, left for dead, or something.

By the way, tomorrow is Friday the 13th.

And your responses...

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