The Anger Problem | Teen Ink

The Anger Problem

June 1, 2011
By SophieMae BRONZE, New City, New York
SophieMae BRONZE, New City, New York
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

Anger problem!” she fumed “You- Of all people think- I have an anger problem?” As her feet ran the carpet, she was unaware of her hastened movements. She didn’t understand this woman, who she called her mother, the one who had nurtured her from the moment of conception. The one who taught her everything, everything included her so-called anger problem, the one who claimed she as a mother, as a person could do no wrong in this world, yet in her daughter’s eyes had so many flaws one could not begin to fathom how she thought she was Miss Perfect.
“Me!” her mother roared with a face she had seen very often in her young years on earth. The one that was a tell-tale sign that tonight she would cry herself to sleep. “Young Lady, you will not speak to me in such a manner”, she spoke in that way that felt like nails on a chalkboard to her daughter.
“Yes, Mother. You. Y-o-u. If anyone in this crazy family has a problem with anger issues it is you. You stick your nose in the sky all the time as if you were so much better than the common people. Your children are second class citizens to you in their own home.” The words had begun to spill like endless rain. “I walk in this home, quivering in fear of the wrath of the almighty”, and as if the mention of her daughter’s fear in her home had made her sick, her mother turned away from her. Had she gone too far in calling her mother a dictator? But as usual her mouth ran without the filtering process of her brain and before she could seal her lips together, they had spilled all her thoughts about her mother.
There had been fights before between the two, which was not unusual. This time had seemed different to both, so as she spoke with her words coming out of her mouth seamlessly like the salt water coming from her mother’s eyes, both knew that this would take them farther in a direction neither had known before. Farther to an understanding one that could only come out after all that had been harbored beneath her surface. Slowly, as if they had been pushed together by the currents of slow drifting sea, she had sat down next to her mother and felt the salty water stream down her face. Their arms anchored within the other as they held each other close and cried waves of sorrow.


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