And then, my old concept of time came back. I no longer lived purely in the present. Jesus Christ, what a high that was. I could barely remember the last year. I did notice though, that I don't need anger anymore to be turned on. I don't think I really needed any kind of satisfaction at the time. I was just ready to live life. Days went by, and I didn't do much. I tried being nicer to my wife, but the language barrier made it hard. I had conditioned her too well to be some sorta fuck slave.

That blur of partying, doing drugs, fucking people in a bar in front of everyone... I can't even put the events in order. The only thing bringing me back down to earth is the withdrawal.

I started getting to know my neighbors. There weren't many around, but we became good friends with the ones next door. I have no idea when, but my face changed. I still looked in the mirror dumbfounded every day. I could still feel the anger I used to hold on to try to come up every once in a while, but I ignored it and tried to move on from the past.

That was it, wasn't it? This whole time, without even realizing, I had started this thing where I try really hard to enjoy the way I was treated. It was because I didn't wanna feel the anger anymore. The painful burning in my chest, the excruciating lack of energy, it was painful.

I tried to replace it with sadness, but it just made me an even bigger target, sometimes even putting me in danger.

I tried focusing on affectionate feelings for a person I met online. The one I mentioned before, who lost interest when she saw my face for the first time. This made me think love wasn't real, thus it wasn't a viable option.

Joy? Well, I gained enjoyment from fucking with people, but it left a bad taste in my mouth. Still, it was the best option I had. I tried really hard to create an association between sexual pleasure and trolling, kinda like how serial killers get all excited while strangling someone to death.

That worked as a method of suppressing my anger, until things changed in a way I only noticed in hindsight. At some point, during my time in the military, I started being respected by the people around me. It happened so slowly that I didn't realize it. I was so caught up in my own world. Was I even as ugly as I used to be at the time?

Unconsciously, I was still stuffing down the old anger I had. The addiction I had to getting my next nut was only a distraction. And when I gained the confidence to start actually getting bitches, I didn't need my weird, convoluted method of getting off. I could just simply have sex with someone.

But of course, in my older age, my desire for that grew dim, and I started to become more conscious. I noticed things around me. I said good morning to people as I walked by. I started wondering what it was I actually wanted out of life.

Not knowing what to do with my time, I started working at a cafe and met Bridget. We had a friends with benefits type of thing going on, but we would also watch movies and stuff together, usually at her place. The movies were so melodramatic at times, and it would made her cry. I realized she wasn't acting when every once in a while, a particularly impactful moment from a movie would have a slight effect on me.

Fuck me, I was wrong. People don't just simply grow out of having emotions and then pretend to still have them for the rest of their life. I just thought that was the case because of how all-encompassing my anger had become.

Now, keep in mind, this isn't a story about me gradually becoming more "human", I'm just simply writing this down for anyone who knows me. It's so you can make sense out of any strange interactions you've had with me in the past, or anything I've done that you witnessed. This is a suicide note, but it's not over yet.

I'm about to gloss over the process of me becoming more emotional, and get to the fucking point.

Like I said before, I started getting along with my neighbors, my coworkers, new friend, etc. I had a pretty good support system. I started to feel bad for cheating on my wife, so I stopped seeing Bridget without really giving her a great reason. I think I claimed that I was depressed but I'm not sure. She would come try to check on me once in a while, and it took her months to give up.

As for my wife, I started learning Korean in an attempt to communicate with her. I started doing all the housework, and brought her breakfast in bed which she would accept stoically. It was hard to get a read on her. She didn't seem particularly interested in hanging out with me, and one day started sleeping in the guest bedroom. Can't say I blamed her. I would eventually figure out how to help her get home, and get her her own place to stay. I just needed to finish learning her language.

In the meantime, life was pretty normal. I would hang out with friends, go to work, come home, scroll through TikTok, etc. But over time I started to notice it, the anger. The accumulation of all the disrespect I'd received in childhood was still, even now, refusing to subside.

I took up martial arts and started going to the gym. The physical activity made me forget my rage for a while, but every now and then I would catch myself arguing in the shower with nobody, fantasizing about getting revenge on my parents who I hadn't heard from since nineteen, gripping the couch way too hard every time something on television reminded me of an unresolved injustice from my past.