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Why do people succumb to anger?


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It feels so easy to slip into its grasp. But at the same time, from a distance, it looks quite stupid. Aren't we overreacting? What's the point of hitting one another, yelling at one another, going to war with one another? Yet when are up close, immersed in anger, we feel nothing but blissful rage, if that makes sense. Sweet revenge empowers us. Makes us feel as if we are at the top of the world. Maybe it is a survival mechanism. But I sure wish it weren't.
a question of relations

I have come to a point in my thinking where I am questioning my relationship with many, save a few people. I feel like they do not listen to me. They do not talk to me about things that are of more importance. They put down other friends. They welcome me, crowd around me. Then, a minute or two later, they go off for something more interesting.

How can anyone live like that?

Thanks to my good friends, I am able to pull through. But I am really starting to question myself. What is a good relationship? Should we ditch people we can't connect with?

I feel like relationships have gone under extreme damage. I feel that a few feet of distance is a metal wall between two entities. I feel that I am trapped into this horrible play of society.

Every time I try to talk to people I want to, it feels like a one sided conversation. How does one resolve this?

I am looking for some answers.

I feel angry at people who used to be friends. I feel alienated from them. I feel disgusted.

But why? Amn't I the same as them?

I think that many people feel they are special, important, different from the others with a purpose in life. But this is also true: http://xkcd.com/610/

This has made me frustrated, how it is so hard to connect to people.

I guess this quote cheered me up: "Maybe we should develop a Crayola bomb as our next secret weapon. A happiness weapon. A beauty bomb. And every time a crisis developed, we would launch one. It would explode high in the air - explode softly - and send thousands, millions, of little parachutes into the air. Floating down to earth - boxes of Crayolas. And we wouldn’t go cheap, either - not little boxes of eight. Boxes of sixty-four, with the sharpener built right in. With silver and gold and copper, magenta and peach and lime, amber and umber and all the rest. And people would smile and get a little funny look on their faces and cover the world with imagination."