I Am Angry Man

People get this impression of me. That I have a temper. That I'm a bit crazy. That I'm angry all the time. Yet, this view of me does little to sway them from thinking of me as a good guy. I suppose it's because I am a decent guy, and most people can sense that my frustration does not stem from them, nor is it intentionally directed at them.

Not so simple with my wife. Her insecurities blind her. She insists that my frustration is anger. More, that it's because of her. Note: ladies, that's one helluva quick way to turn a delusion into reality. Because, when she accuses me of that, suddenly I am angry. At her. Her silly insecurities.

Just because there's a fire in the house, doesn't mean the house is on fire.

I keep my frustration contained. I don't take it out on people. At least, I don't physically abuse, or wantonly verbally abuse, people. If I come off as distant, I suppose that may be construed as emotional abuse. But there's a time and a place for all things. I make it a point to express my love for my wife in various ways. I can't maintain such fluffy feelings 24/7 though. I AM a man. A haunted man at that.

What does my frustration stem from? I know exactly. I grew up homeless for the first seven years of my life. From there, I lived in a physically abusive household. Running from that, I had to survive in the desert, on the streets, amongst the violence of lost souls.

I DO NOT KNOW HOW TO LIVE IN YOUR NORMAL WORLD. I can't force myself to learn how to take it seriously. Oooh! I missed a payment! Oh no! I'm gonna be homeless! Gasp! Somebody who knows me, hates me, and wishes me ill will!

Shit. I've survived on NO money. Homeless describes a HUGE portion of my past. I have had strangers try to kill me and mine. I've had people close to me actually pull it off. So excuse me if I find all this quite boring. If you never seem to get my undivided attention.

Put me in a crisis, I perk up. I get happy. You get my undivided attention. But it had better be what I consider to be a crisis. Angry customers, late product, stretched finances, modest amounts of blood... Yawn.

But this screws me over. I am in this world now. I need to be able to function amongst my lesser peers in their trivial, mundane activities. But for all my adaptability, all that I've successfully survived, I can't seem to swing this. And it affects the people I associate regularly with. My wife, my workmates. I seem to let them down.

How I get my "angry" reputation is by complaining incessantly, cursing, yelling, storming around, scowling. Most of it is a facade. I'm trying desperately to prove that I do care. I care so much, it consumes me. I care more than you do!

But it's bullshit. People are starting to catch on. At least everyone but my wife. Although I think even she's starting to get an idea. Not that I haven's told her already. I have warned her. But it's heard about as well as my compliments. Never. The only real frustration comes from knowing the bleak truth.

I want so badly to fit in. To appreciate these situations. But I want to use my skills more. If I could bring myself to believe in this war America is embroiled in, I'd be better suited for that lifestyle.

In the meantime, I'm frustrated. I can't be who I am, and I won't be who I'm supposed be. THAT is where my endless supply of frustration comes from.