Anger

My mood today has been one of simmering anger. Frustration, for one. The uncovering of old wounds for another. There’s also the endlessness of unbearable heat. But I try to keep my cool. If you saw me today, you would never believe I’d been walking around with an edge to my breathing. Late tonight at Bricks Hotel, while I try to check off things on my to-do list, I hear the angry waves of Bohol Sea bashing at the Rizal Boulevard. I could empathize with its wrath.

“It’s a windy night,” I tell Glenn the waiter.

“Yeah,” he agreed.

But I don’t feel the wind at all, not on my sun-drenched skin. But the waves I do hear, a raging howl that feels uncanny. Sometimes anger is like that: it can be diffused and loud, but I don’t feel it at all except as the low-key simmering of things.