But I'm just so angry.
And every time I go to type something or post something, I stop myself. What will people say? How will people react? Am I being harsh? Do I have my facts straight? It's better to wait, better to stay quiet. I'll retweet a joke about this, instead, and I'll pretend that catharsis actually works as a coping mechanism.
And I wish, for just one second, that any of these thoughts had even fleetingly occurred in the White House this week.
Normally, I try to stay away from these things online, but I'm just so angry.
Deep in the gut. A physical, stomach churning anger. An anger buzzing across the surface of my skin, vibrating through the keyboard as I type. My muscles are clenched and sore. I don't think I've stood up straight in 24 hours.
Scattered through my mind. A confused anger. There's anger about one thing here, and anger about another thing there, and another, and another, and I don't know which one to latch onto. Do I jump from thing to thing? Do I try to string it all together? How do I form a cohesive sentence about what I'm feeling without somewhere to begin? How do I form a convincing argument when I don't even know what point I want to make?
Throbbing through my fists. A vindicated anger. I've posted before, vehement and dignified, on this very blog about the power of words. I don't think I've blogged about any other topic more. Violent rhetoric begets violence, people will hear what they think something means over your intentions, lying at large has extraordinary consequences -- aren't these the things I've been saying all along? Aren't these the things we were all taught growing up? Did people really need any of this to happen to believe it all?
Ringing in my ears. A frightened, paranoid anger. What happens now? I feel exposed and helpless. I feel unsafe. If Congress can't trust their guards, can I trust my locks? If this can happen in Washington, could it happen in Lansing? Could it happen again? Could it work? I've said the words, myself, "I bet we'll have a civil war in my lifetime." Is it starting?
I know I'm just a twenty something in Michigan with barely a voice beyond a medium-sized friends list and an occasional vote. I know there's nothing I can do. I know there are people who are going to tell me why I should be angry about something else, or how wrong I am, or how disappointed they are to see me saying the things I need to say right now.
But, damnit, I'm just so angry.
