Anger waits at the front door, even if I never open it.I come home pretending nothing happened,but the feeling always seems to reach the threshold before I do, without making a sound.
Anger doesn't just appear out of nowhere.It grows slowly, nurtured by disappointment, neglect, and repeated misunderstandings.When my hand reaches for the doorknob, that's the moment it finally shows itself.Only then do I realize what I've been carrying.
I tried to ignore it.I took off my shoes, turned on the lights, opened and closed the fridge like everything was fine.But anger is not a feeling that tolerates pretending.
It slips under the doorframe and makes the air in the house feel heavy.Some days, it follows my footsteps into the living room.Some nights, it crawls into bed and makes me turn my back in silence.And sometimes, it reaches my lipsand pushes out the words I swore I wouldn't say."This isn't something I should just let go."
Anger always tells me to speak, even when I'm not ready.
But here's the strange part.Anger lasts longer when I swallow it.It tightens my throat when I stay silent.It holds me still when I don't act.
I've clenched my teeth so many times trying to hold it in.Later, I would blame myself for not saying what I should have said.
Now I understand.Anger is a warning light inside me.When it follows me home, it means I'm trying to protect something.It means I've been hurt.It means I shouldn't always stay silent and endure.
But I don't want to let that anger settle in my home.I want to treat my heart like a guest worthy of care.To make sure it doesn't feel ignored or cast aside.
Today, I close the door.Not to shut anger out,but to protect myself.