I'm 64. I've had two kinds of cancer and brain surgery. I also have COPD. On a bad day, like today, I can barely make it across a room.
I have no interest fighting again--ever. And I haven't for many years. I was a little girl when I had fights.
I started this thread because that feeling of the release of anger was missing. And I remember it felt good. It wouldn't feel good now. It would feel crazy now. And be dangerous now.
Too damned bad... You are too young to know such pain... I remember a movie, with that guy on all the salad dressing bottles, who did a movie about the wild bunch... I think the movie was called pocket money or something... In any event, he threw a rock at one of the other characters, a Mexican... And that was enough because he knew the guy would think of him everytime he looked at a rock in the road... You do not have to hit people... With sympathetic magic all you have to do is throw a rock in the direction of one you would hit, and it is like hitting them; you know, like pins in a voodoo doll... Well, it is too bad if you can't make a terrible fetish of your illness and stick a pin in that... Stand up to it... Tell it you are not going down without a fight... And then give it one... We all die...Death always wins; but there is a difference between those who submit, and bow their heads to accept the blow long before it strikes, and those who give death a run for its money...