It is difficult to break up with anger. He keeps coming back for one last
tryst. It’s like fucking Rolling Stones, or so I imagine. There was a reason I
got into anger, though. He served a purpose. Whenever we were together I
dreamed of what could have been. Not outrageous dreams of immortality
and limitlessness, but reasonable ones of not always having to be a
grown-up. Anger was never late to point out what I was missing, and he
could go all night. It was exhausting. Unlike fucking Rolling Stones, or so I
imagine. I got tired of anger and stopped answering his calls. For weeks
I’ve been trying to hook up with acceptance. I hear she is good. Engaged, so
there is no stepping out, no looking back. She demands full commitment
and will take on no less. I am ready for that. If I am going to spend this
kind of energy, I want more than rage and an STD. I want the real deal,
something to remember. Like fucking Rolling Stones, or so I imagine.