Anger is an impressive motivator. It drives people to perform acts of self-inflicted torture (tearing their hair out), to become artists (by drawing dividing lines between other humans), to want to switch to a sea-faring career (swearing like a sailor). In a manner of speaking, anger is simply misdirected passion for another person — instead of wanting to kiss them, you want to punch them in face.
In case you hadn’t quite caught on, yes, this is a ranting post.
Blood runs thicker than water. Family should be the closest people to you, right? So why, time and time again, does it seem like they are always the ones who can punch you in the face the hardest? I was always under the impression that family was never supposed to leave, and maybe that was some sugarcoated lie that Disney films threw at me, but I really thought it was true. Friends are here and gone again like dandelion seeds in the breeze, on their way to the greener grass on the other side. But family? In my opinion, last names meant more than the “BBF” necklaces.
Nothing should divide a family, be it political preferences, religious associations, socioeconomic status or simply a lack of general interests. Those who drive wedges between relatives are equal to murderers, in my book (and yes, I know that God sees all sin on the same level and that there is none worse than another — but here’s a newsflash for you, honey: I’m not God). You didn’t just separate certain family members from each other, you killed a community between groups and you destroyed any possibility of interaction between humans who ought to have counted each other as friends.
Don’t like this post? I dare you to comment. I’m in the mood for a debate and I would love to argue any one of these points. I stand by every word that I typed here. Ambrose Bierce said that you should “speak when you’re angry and you’ll make the best speech that you’ll ever regret.” And guess what?