“Of the Seven Deadly Sins, anger is possibly the most fun. To lick your wounds, to smack your lips over grievances long past, to roll over your tongue the prospect of bitter confrontations still to come, to savor to the last toothsome morsel both the pain you are given and the pain you are giving back — in many ways it is a feast fit for a king. The chief drawback is that what you are wolfing down is yourself. The skeleton at the feast is you."
— Frederich Buechner
I'm rarely speechless. But what can you say when a senseless act of violence touches your life in some small way? When people you no longer know — but should — amaze you, scare you, disappoint and disgust you, all the while while you are striving to love them again? When the tears fill your eyes at the contemplation of a soul so filled with hate and indifference, so blinded by drunkeness and anger — a soul crushing down on itself with the weight of it's own darkness? No words come.
I've known people in my life who have seemed to thrive on a limited diet of anger, bitterness and blame. Being around them is like drinking a steady dose of daily poison. I can't figure out what draws certain people into these relationships, keeps them there. Is it some camradarie of pain — as simple as misery loving company? The thrill of running with the 'bad' crowd? Do they feed off of each other, continually pouring out and filling up on a feast of rage? Does sharing the pain and anger make it any less, or only increase it?
I know a little about rage. I know that shame is it's constant companion. And I know it's never too late to let it all go. Forgiveness is the first step.