There it is, that familiar feeling of bubbling anger. It’s always a slow boil for me. Sometimes I’m not even sure if it’ll even start boiling. A lot of times I take the pot off the stove and abandon the dish entirely. Hey, I’ll eat it cold.
I deal with anger by talking myself out of it. I like diplomacy, I like to tell myself I’m wrong and handle things with care. Diplomacy outside of politics is defined as the art of dealing with people in a sensitive and effective way. I think that’s beautiful. There are other ways to react or feel, and to be quick to anger seems unnecessary.
But sometimes it can’t be helped, and before I know it the water is all over the fucking place. Hissing and staining the stove top. Telling me in an insensitive yet very effective way: I didn’t take care to watch my pot.