Harry the Dragon never, ever, EVER breathed fire.

Not Harry. Not even once.

But dragons generate fire just by living. And so Harry had decades worth of fire built up inisde him that he refused to let out.

And so it made him very sick all the time.

Got talking about my anger issues in therapy today. How I have all this latent rage built up inside me with virtually no outlet, and how until I find a way to deal with that, my progress will continue to be slow and painful.

All true. I cannot deny a word of it. I would be a hell of a lot better off if I found some way to vent all this fucking anger inside me and thereby reduce the pressure level in my overcharged emotional coping mechanisms.

But I’m too scared.

I used to say that my main problem with expressing anger was that I didn’t want to be like my father, taking his anger out on others instead of dealing with it himself.

And that’s definitely still in there. But it’s not the real problem. The real problem is that I am too scared of my own dark thoughts to risk opening the floodgates of my rage.

Except that’s probably bullshit too. It’s probably just my depression’s away of keeping me from getting relief from it. All it has to do is raise the specter of me being a raging lunatic (or worse, an asshole) whenever I even contemplate venting my spleen and I freak out and slam those floodgates shut extra hard, and run off to hide.

Such mouslike timidity.

The truth is that I really don’t know what would happen if I opened those floodgates. And that’s the really scary part. Nothing is scarier than the unknown, and the human mind can’t help but view any kind of large, unpredictable change to itself as a form of death. And venting my rage would change a LOT, I think.

I might become a totally different person without this unstable nuclear reactor of fulminating rage eating away at me 24/7.

And that scares the hell out of me.

Maybe what I need to do is let the rage pass through me and out of me without interference. Let it go like a lance of fire stabbing into the night sky in a torrent of raging exploding flame, and hope that works.

I think it would help some, but not really solve anything. It’s not going to be that easy. Not by a long shot.

I am not going to be able to get away with releasing the rage without having to actually express it. It’s a nice thought but it’s a pipe dream, like weight loss without sacrifice or success without self-discipline.

They’re kind of the same thing.

No, the truth is that I am going to have to find at least one way to actually express all that molten rage inside me, and being who I am, the main one was always going to be through words. Through writing.

I feel safe and in control when I write.

So here goes with venting some of my dark thoughts.

Lately they have been very…. non-egalitarian. I have been dodging intellectual elitism for a very long time. And I suppose I thought this was some sort of noble choice I was making, but it wasn’t.

Mostly. it was a side benefit of a dead and disconnected id.

Now that I am repairing that id connection, I am getting surges of rage and frustration and the urge to destroy.

And underneath it all is the urge to scream, “Listen up, all you dumb motherfuckers! Listen to me because I am smarter than any three of you put together and if the world was a fair place you all would be showing me a hell of a lot more respect! Now bow down to me and kiss my ass and I might decide you deserve to be educated by a vastly superior mind so you drooling halfwits can learn to actually think for a change!”.

Ugly thoughts, I know, but better out than in, I guess.

Turn out, I am mad about a lot of things, and one of the biggest is how my life has turned out. Deep down I think I deserve way better than I have gotten out of life, and it pisses me off that depression has devoured my entire adult life and doesn’t look like it is going to spit me out any time soon, and that’s just not fucking fair.

I don’t deserve this. I’m an amazing guy. And I have so much to offer the world. But because I have a head full of bad wiring, I am stuck here living in my own goddamned filth and wasting my life playing goddamned video games because I just plain can’t deal with anything and so I have to hide from everything.

And it makes me so mad I want to scream. I should be super successful by now. With my abilities, I could have kicked ass in any one of a hundred different fields and be enjoying the fruits of my success right about now, instead of living in poverty and squalor stuck like a dog turd to society’s shoe.

I could be making amazing things happen with my amazing abilities. I could be writing and producing hilarious and heartwarming television, or traveling the world as a public speaker imparting my insights and stirring up debate. Or I could be running my own think tank, or high level consulting firm. I could be advising heads of state, or working with scientists on world-saving inventions.

Hell, I could be a hedge fund manager making millions for myself every day using other people’s money and spending my time sucking rented cock on a tropical island and drinking elaborate rum cocktails.

But no. Instead, I am a nothing nobody and it is all due to this fucking depression.

And that really pisses me off.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.