Anger (I sense a theme)
I am not an angry person, but you would never know it if you saw me in life.
Perhaps you wouldn't think of it as anger. Perhaps you would see righteous indignation. Perhaps you would hear loquations on the plight of the weak. Perhaps you could smell the determination seep through my very pores. And you would stand with a small bitter taste of admiration in your mouth. And you would say that at least I have a plan.
But some days I don't want to care that much. I don't want to orate on the need for affirmative action or opine over the nuances of racial language and tension. Some days I don't want to feel offended, not for lack of an offense, but for lack of my own obsession. Some days I want to be human.
Perhaps you wouldn't think of it as anger. Perhaps you would see righteous indignation. Perhaps you would hear loquations on the plight of the weak. Perhaps you could smell the determination seep through my very pores. And you would stand with a small bitter taste of admiration in your mouth. And you would say that at least I have a plan.
But some days I don't want to care that much. I don't want to orate on the need for affirmative action or opine over the nuances of racial language and tension. Some days I don't want to feel offended, not for lack of an offense, but for lack of my own obsession. Some days I want to be human.