Anger

I want to write about life and the pleasures of living. I want to write about La Dolce Vita and La Bella Vita, when you don't have a care in the world. Not today. Because I've just woken up from a restless night, I actually thought I wasn't getting any sleep, but doctors are good at helping you sleep, even if it is for a couple of hours. And I have woken up to hear the sad news that a friend of a number of friends, including my brother, has died. At 36. He didn't choose it. It happened. Brain hemorrhage something. And that's terribly sad. 36 is too young for the time up card. Which suddenly makes me angry and now I remember why the restless sleep. Anger, it's an emotion so hard to deal with. I thought being heartbroken was the worst of them all, until I discover anger, rage almost. The kind where you want to kick someone head, make it into a ball and fire it from some canon, just like La Vallette did. I used to think he was morbid, firing a human head from a canon, now I understand. He must have been very very angry. It still doesn't let him off the morbid hook, and I still cannot see myself doing the same, but somehow I understand. The thing is, Malta in 2009 boasts of cannons which are just something tourists take pictures of, they don't work anymore. I'd make international headlines... crazy girl fires human head from a canon? Oh God no, I think that's crime.. And anyway, I don't have a head to fire, not because it's sitting prettily on someone's shoulders, but because it's probably deteriorated beyond recognition. I cannot wake up the dead. I certainly cannot wake up the dead to fire their heads from canons. I used to think I was so much in love, now it's like a bad dream, surreal, the love is all gone. And I've put the anger on hold for way too long. Anger management, I don't know how to go about that. Because you can swear at a lover, you can curse him a million times. It still doesn't solve anything if he's not around to listen. I thought I was angry at life, now I realise I'm not. It's not life. It's people who choose to go. Selfish bastards. I'm done with all the romantic keepsakes, I've thrown them all away. And I have the anger to do away with now. I'm not sure the Local Council's bulky refuse service could cope with that.