Anger

I felt angry way before he died, but it was primarily directed at God. Yes I know that daddy smoked. And I know that if he hadn't, then more than likely he wouldn't have gotten sick. But I also know that if God had chosen, He could've healed my daddy and made him well again. I mean, he had enough people praying for him. And I felt like God just chose to ignore my pleas, along with everyone elses. And I thought of all the evil, evil people there are today and how it'd be more fair that one of THEM die instead of my dad. I've been so angry at God that I'd even started wondering if there even was a Heaven or Hell. I mean, my own personal hell was here on Earth-a life without my dad. Dad knew that I was angry at God and he even went as far as to tell me to be angry with HIM because of the choices he'd made. Little did he know that I would eventually end up angry with him for abandoning me, leaving me too soon. And then I get angry at other people...mad because they have their fathers and take them for granted, mad because I'm not allowed to grieve by laying in the bed all day everyday, mad because no one can take this immense sadness from me. And then I get irritable and get mad over dumb silly things because the anger is always just beneath the surface wanting to spill over into all facets of my life. I snap at people, say things I don't mean just to be mean, and just generally hate. I feel slighted at the hand that was dealt to me...it isn't fair...and that in itself makes me so angry, I want to scream. But I don't. I lock the anger up with all the other emotions that I'm feeling so I won't make a fool out of myself by, gasp, crying at inappropriate times. I think most people just want me to get over it and be back to normal. And for the most part, I try. But sometimes, you know, I'd like to be allowed to get angry, to scream, to yell, to cry, to question God.