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If I'm frustrated, I talk to myself. I curse like a pirate. I cry. Or I sulk.
If I am angry at someone, I direct my anger at the person in question. I give them a piece of my mind, at the speed of light with cutting edges. I am not hurtful, but I am incisive about why I am pissed off.
If I am angry and the anger is about a situation, or the person I'm angry is no longer there, I bang doors. I fume. I may shout or scream. Sometimes I punch/throw pillows, but that is when I am angry beyond belief. After all this I will usually end up crying.
Believe it or not, I hate arguments. But I say what I need to say when I need to say it. It doesn't always have a good result.
I have a bit of a temper. It's usually under control. But when I am mad, I don't bottle it up, I let it out.
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Whether we write or speak or do but look
We are ever unapparent. What we are
Cannot be transfused into word or book.
Our soul from us is infinitely far.
However much we give our thoughts the will
To be our soul and gesture it abroad,
Our hearts are incommunicable still.
In what we show ourselves we are ignored.
The abyss from soul to soul cannot be bridged
By any skill of thought or trick of seeming.
Unto our very selves we are abridged
When we would utter to our thought our being.
We are our dreams of ourselves, souls by gleams,
And each to each other dreams of others' dreams.
Fernando Pessoa, 1918
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