My anger becomes socially elegant before it becomes honest

Dear Delyara, That is one of the saddest truths I know about myself. I don’t always express anger. I refine it. I make it cleaner, calmer, more intelligent-sounding, more socially permissible. I flatten its heat into something people can tolerate without seeing the wound beneath it. By the time it leaves my mouth, it has often already been edited into a version that protects everyone from the full weight of it — including me. But the original anger still exists. It just doesn’t get much oxygen. I think that has cost me more than I admit.