Anger, Bitterness, and Liberation

Anger flooded my chest. Frustration blurred my eyes. They sting.

But I just felt them without saying or doing anything. Tears were rising. My respiratory organs struggled to pump air. No words were coming.

Then I left the scene. Leaving is always the best first-aid for emotional injuries.

Then I breathed. Angry thoughts were still screaming. But just after about 10 minutes, they died out. The dark clouds have flown away, leaving behind a calm sad sky.

The sorrow of having such broken family visits me often. I have an autistic brother and immature divorced parents. I'm something annoying as well. When will I be ok with this fact? What knowledge do I need to be ok with this fact?

I wish I could see everything selfless like the Buddha has preached. If so, I'd no longer exist. This identity would become imaginary, like a game character that I can create and delete any time. Same as my brother, my parents, and everyone else. I'd be able to step back from the game and see, this miserable story is not mine. This story is made up. I have no story. 

Life has no story. Life has no purpose.

The moment I detached myself from "my" tragedy, I felt relieved. The heaviness in me was lifted. The people I hated are now just a boy, a woman, and a man I barely see anymore. No relations. The girl I used to identify as "myself" is just a girl, whose pains I could feel deeply.

Then, who am I? Emptiness?

Without a story, nobody exists, I guess. Some detest the story given to them so much that they want to throw it away and accept to cease from existence.

For now, I prefer to be emptiness.