An Angry Man

I am angry. Angry at the world, at my dead mother, at my boss, at my co-workers. I am angry at the world that I live in.

But the above are not the source of my discontent.Rather they are easy targets. It is much easier to direct my ire at the surrounding impersonal world, than to point the finger at who really is the cause of my unhappiness.

Who exactly is the culprit? Who is the person who is to blame for my misery? For my loneliness? For my anger?

To quote De La Soul, "It's just me, myself, and I". That is the infamous criminal who has stolen the smiles from my life, who has tortured my soul, who has maliciously snuffed out the joy in my life. It is I who is responsible for this personal tragedy.

What is a life without laughter, without joy, without happiness? One that hasn't the value of a single piece of Pez.

How shall I vanquish this terrible foe? How shall I slay the emotional dragon that terrorizes my soul?

I am Arthur seeking Excalibur. I am in a quest to seek the weapon that can smite that which oppresses my soul. I am Angryman no more.