I love anger. It's so whole, so big. It becomes everything inside you and suddenly everything becomes simple. All your thoughts are stripped back to the bare bones and nothing seems that complex. Its like an epiphany, the eye of the storm affording you a new clarity, a bright dawn.
Until, of course, the fuel runs low and the fire dies back. As the anger wanes and the storm moves on, all that's left around you is not clear, is not merely black and white but an infuriating number of shades of grey, virtually indistinguishable from one another but to the most observant eye.
I'd like to have that eye. Or else maintain the hotheaded clarity of rage, anger, inner turmoil. Because even that counts. Battling against oneself, being the harsh judge that noone else can be, its a lot less difficult than seeing things with a crystal eye.