The control was weighing me down. I opened up. I let the temper return, but I was being brought down again by the introvert paranoia and easy attachment of my teenage years. It a balance to defeat the beta still clawing at the cage that’s getting smaller and smaller.
You can’t hold back your emotions, that impossible. Humans are emotional, feeling creatures that run on instinct and primal urges we still barely understand. Years of romantic notions drummed up by writers, poets, philosophers and politically correct science have clouded our minds to the reality of human nature. Even the strictest of researches still deny things like differences between straights and gays, men and women, blacks and whites. Control, it seems, is more important than authenticity.
Alas, we also need control to function in the modern world where everything is controlled one way or another. Food has the USDA. Streets have DOT and police. Your house, FHA. Your lungs, EPA. Your heart, AMA. Your cock, FDA. There isn’t an aspect of your life that isn’t controlled by an outside force. Walk, don’t run. Don’t walk. Carpool lane only. No smoking. No shirts. No shoes. Cross a line, you’re under arrest.
Its like a glass shell with the power of the sun inside. People aren’t meant to live this way.
How do you garner that middle ground where you aren’t an automaton on the edge of breaking, but not a feral man going nowhere, left at the bottom of the civilizational food chain?