Impatient Anger

There is no need to be in a hurry, but the energy goes ahead. That energy is, after all, a rogue energy that comes from within, and does not do anything to solve the problem. It is just a mismatch in emotional control that is close to solving anger when used well at best. Even if you know it well, if the fuse of emotion is opened, the fire burns out frequently. It's a really unnecessary decoration to hold on to as nature.

In the end, I am impatient and have a hard temper, and no matter how much I say rationality with my mouth, I am a scoundrel. When the moment comes to me while bluntly telling others that the surroundings around me do not return to my standards, but have their own purpose, they burn as if lighting a wick. As they cut the connecting lines with their surroundings one by one, they fall into isolation and say that they have to stay in the self-proclaimed Heaven, but which life is really possible to survive alone? However, if I take a step back - on the premise that it can be realized - what is the meaning and value of my intention to achieve harmony and balance with my surroundings and others? It is only a temporary check for bankruptcy when I have to strictly rebuke my incompetence while hovering around the origin like an endless repetition. Something extreme needs to be done.

 

The ideal of youth, which discusses the quality of personality, has already passed, and the approach to perfection through improvement is too unrealistic. A whip suddenly comes to mind in the empty spot, and I arrive at a dead end in depicting the rule of terror of tyranny that is heterogeneous, structural, and coercive. This is clearly a disappointing conclusion. The justification that needs to be corrected before that is a conclusion that is less than common sense. However, when a moment of powerful temptation comes, it always stops at the same place again and repeats the same path over and over again. (I don't know what the Han River is, so I keep tearing up in Jongno, but I can't find a way to even check exactly where the Han River is.) It is a shameful and disappointing self-portrait, and by adding additional paint over and over again, the color changes to an ugly color and wrinkles are increasing. It has gradually dried and twisted, and now it doesn't seem to have any moisture left. Even so, the active volcano inside regularly spits out red lava, like a hungry cries every now and then.

 

Now, it's still enough to look in the mirror and check, so it's not that bad, so the blindfolded gesture that comforts me must also put an end. And I also have to put down the foolish naivety that ignores the process and results of breathing next to us by relying on meanings and values ​​that do not exist. Otherwise, I may have to stand by your side like an incurable disease in the future, and I may have to do it with the bursts of emotions that fell into the trap of my own logic until the last breath.