Anger

I wonder what people think when they first see me. I wonder if they see the stereotype of redheads, the temper so often attached to the hair color.

Sometimes, when I look in the mirror, it's all I see.

I'm one of those people who should probably not be allowed to interact with other people sometimes. Occasionally I feel I deserve to have someone lock me in a room for a while until I cool down.

All my life, it's been this way. I've never been a peaceful person. Frequently it seems like I'm holding such anger under the surface, and it's a constant struggle to keep it from escaping. I wonder sometimes if this is all that I am, a lifetime of managing anger, hostility, judgement.

There has to be something wrong with me. God wouldn't have created a person to be so angry, would he? God couldn't have made me this way.

I know all of the practical responses to this. See a counselor. See a therapist. Someone who can help you sort through your issues. 

But here's the thing: I'm not sure I'm brave enough to find out the root cause of all this anger.

How many people can see through this happy face I'm forced to wear everyday? How many people can see that my skin is crawling, that I'm really screaming inside? How many people am I actually fooling?