There’s an anger premeditating throughout us, and it’s something we rarely discuss. It’s an anger, a pure and hateful one that latches onto something worthy of that rage. These past few weeks are evident in that.

There’s a hatred for these experiences, and yet they come with a sense of release: at last are we able to express the hatred and attack that which deserves it. It’s healthy, releasing some of that rage and hate, yet there’s a problem that comes with it all. We can’t agree on what to hate. As a species, we train ourselves to release a rage everywhere.

Something happens, and we go for the throat with either our words or our fists. It doesn’t matter what’s on the receiving end, all we know is that there needs to be a punishment. Let’s not confuse this idea of punishment with justice. Punishment is for the self; justice is for everything other than the self. But we don’t distinguish between the two, and because of it, our perceptions of these ideas become disarrayed.

We become silent with our rage.

It feels better not to talk at all. To anyone, about anything. It feels better to let that rage fester inside until something allows us to release it.

We become conditioned, though, to that release. To something that triggers that hate festering deep within us. It’s a primal urge coupled with familiarity that shatters the image of the rational human.

Something tragic happened again. Something that doesn’t necessarily make sense to us, but it happened. And we became angry. We let loose that rage as a whole, and we became that animal of hate, just like that person who caused the tragedy.

This isn’t the first time someone was angry and did something harmful, nor is it the first time that we saw a similarity in these tragedies. We’ve become conditioned to a hate.

We’ve become hateful, whether instinctively or by choice, and we’re beginning to falter. The anger that is building inside of us is being let loose like a broken faucet, filling us up uncontrollably, and we’re letting it.

It feels good to release that anger, instead of letting it grow, but when it starts to become a part of us is when we begin to lose. We succumb to an animalistic instinct we trained ourselves to rationalize. We throw blame and hurt at those we deem worthy of it. We bury people with enough hate and rage and they will, in turn, do the same.

I was originally going to write about something regarding books but when I put my pen on my paper, so to speak, I began writing about a hatred I feel. I don’t know whether this’ll reach you in time, but hopefully you understand what I’m trying to say.

Maybe you’ll do better the next time when the hate comes out.