angstoic.com Astrologer, Ang Stoic
Remember those times
you sucked it up, tamped it down,
let them trample all over you,
belittle you like a little bitch,
for merely being who you are,
or rather not daring to;
left you there roasting
simpering through gritted teeth of subservience,
fists clenched tight, knuckles white,
aching to unleash a storm,
but you did not.
You couldn’t.
You held it, quelled it—
that anger, bottled up inside,
to fester silently in shame,
only to erupt mistimed and disproportionately elsewhere,
at some poor sot much like yourself,
who, much like you, lacked the gumption to defend her welfare.
That’s how the Mars slash Chiron wound
gets passed around from soul to soul,
inflicted out beyond control,
it builds a calloused, damaged kind of being,
a little monster stigmatised,
a passive-aggressive little fuckler.
The shame we carry for not fighting,
not sticking up for ourselves,
simmers and writhes at our adrenals,
frays our nerves until we learn to let it out
channel our rage constructively,
incisively,
precisely,
like a skilled surgeon’s scalpel,
or blow from a sensei martial artist,
evolving into a warrior bodhisattva,
someone who knows and feels the pain of his adversary,
and beats them down, not with his violence,
but with the full force of his mercy,
his empathy,
and strategically administered kindness.
Unresolved pain, anguish, resentment, suppressed anger, a past full of regretful acts… they had pushed each other away, become so estranged, broken, they barely knew each other’s hearts anymore. Their souls had drifted so far apart, she preferred the void of being alone to the grim despair of being around him. 
∠
/⚷
something happening here…
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