Fired Up
M Alan Roberts

Almost everyone that I know and care about is suffering - and they never can seem to figure out how to end their misery. They struggle with their lives every day. They are good people that have just been dealt a hand that isn't quite up to par. Born into poverty, they forge their ways through the onslaught of anguish that is life. Having just enough money to keep them just up to zero, they are in constant need of hope - hope that they can rarely see. They don't want to quit. They want to be victorious; they want to prevail over the forces that have consistently beat them down.

I look meaningfully into their eyes and tell them to just give up.

Seriously, why go on? I tell them that no matter what they will do today - they are doomed to the same fate that they began it with. "Why expend the energy?" I ask them. That always gets them too. They are fully expecting me, their friend, to offer some words of wisdom - or caring - or appeasement - or at least a little sympathy. That's when I give them an extra dose of mind-warping apathy. That's when I dig deep and really go the distance for their own good. I tell them that they are wimps - that maybe they should just end it all - permanently. I even ask them if they would like to borrow a gun.

Now, at this point, they begin to think I am a real jerk. I can see it in their eyes. I stick my lips out and make like I am a whining little infant. They are stunned that anyone can be so completely unconcerned for their wellbeing and happiness. I see the gears spinning in their minds as they try to discern some reason that I might be acting so blatantly cold towards them. When I see that they may be thinking that I am simply trying to make them self-reflect - well, that's when I take my devious game to the next level.

I start cussing them out - the more vulgarly, the better. I call them every name in the book. I curse at them in every way imaginable - enough to make the offspring of the devil blush. I make sure that at least small particles of spittle escape my mouth as I brutally tear into their very makeup with my unfiltered words. I feed on my false anger to the point where I believe it myself. I become possessed with the spirit of malevolence - and then I do something truly unexpected.

I start laughing at them. I tell them that I think they are pathetic. I tell them that I too would be completely miserable - just like them - if I were to be so weak. I assure them that they are not worthy of success and that they have no right to complain because they never lift the first finger to help themselves - or anyone that they are supposed to love. I belittle them maximally - and they finally start to get angry.

Now, that is exactly what I have intended for them all along - unbridled anger.

They start cussing back at me - and I relish this victory that I have inspired in them. They get truly fired up. They want to hit me, but I am bigger than everyone that I know so that never has happened - yet. I long for the day when it does. If just one of them demonstrated the necessary rage to strike me, then I would have surely touched the right buttons. I would have helped them the most ever. I would giggle like a baby then. I would know that I had truly helped my friends. That's what I do - I help people. I am helpful and kind.

This is when they begin to realize how kind I truly am. They recognize the insanity of their weakness. They start to understand that if they continue to seek sympathy, then that's probably what they will get - probably all they will get. Instead, I like to piss them off - I like to change their hormonal discharges - I like to reset their endocrine systems in order that they might actually be fueled to attack life again.

People sometimes need anger - especially impoverished, repressed people. Anger is a fire that is capable of burning away the sadness of life. Anger alone can save your life. All too often, we just grit our teeth and withstand the misfortunes that we are dealt for another day - all the while building the pressure inside until we pop - or just melt down. That's not my way. I believe in lashing out once in a while. I believe in the profound power of intentional anger.

Unfailingly, they get around to feeling a lot better. After we exchange about 7000 cuss words; grow to the point of physical confrontation; scan the room for weapons and feel like breaking down walls, then my job is nearing completion. Then relaxed, I send them forth to attack their lives instead of feeling like they are under attack. That's why they love me - because I am so helpful - because I care so much.

It makes me feel good inside to be so kind.