>>12980525
>>12980525
>>12980525
>>12980525
donut repress. let the anger out into the world through your art & youre heart <3


Your fortune: Good Luck

>>12980526
I cant, im being such a bitch when im mad bro i literally might just piss people off

>>12980530
>>12980530
>>12980530
>>12980530
i believe you. for unknown reasons we must be agents of agitations towards others beyond our control. i just pray you have mercy on them but let out your anger without physically harming them

would you ever do mma

Your fortune: Good Luck

>>12980533
Thankyou, ill try to express it. Its just hard sometimes i dont want people to leave me like that

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>>12980525
You are quite stressed out step-bro.
I suggest taking a walk in the park/beach/neighbourhood.
Looking at landscape/forest/sea.
Or you can talk it out with family/friends.
Or enjoy some treats of good food/drink/rest.
Or take a dayy off to sleep in bed and rest the mind.

Are you eating a healthy diet?
Have you slept well/exercise?
Sigh I'm too tired.... goodnight bruh.

Your fortune: Good Luck

>>12980525
Anger is just unchanneled frustration. Anger is resentment over being powerless. It's a way of trying to force control when you have no control.

So the way to fight anger is by taking pleasure in things where you do have control. Do something constructive. Build something. Get a hobby or something. Because ultimately we all want control and direction in our life, and when we lack it, it becomes anger, hatred and frustration.

So find what it is that you do good and make it your passion.

>>12980607
Good point. Tell me what you think of this thing that I wrote:

I suddenly realize that nobody is keeping score. It's insane. Just... Plunk. Okay, I hit the ball back to her. It bounces off the court on her side. What's she doing with it now? Oh, she missed. The ball's over by the fence. There she goes to get it. She's got it now. Okay, she's bouncing the ball off the ground before serving it back. Now she's getting ready to serve the ball. Here she goes. She throws the ball into the air. Then swings and misses. The ball rolls into the center of the court and comes to a rest at the bottom of the net. I bend over the net and reach down to pick up the ball. I stand there with it and wait for her to walk over and take it from my hand.

She snatches it then casually jogs back to the serving position and gets ready again. She bounces the ball off the ground, but doesn't catch it this time. The ball richochets off her palm, then bounces and rolls to the back of the court. She makes a face at me like I did something wrong. Then she turns and walks toward the fence. The ball is slowly rolling along the bottom of the fence as she leans over to pick it up. Her large ass presses against her white tennis shorts. Look at those thighs. Damn, girl...

She looks back at me to make sure I'm looking at her. Of course I am. Pick up the damn ball, girl. She smirks and grabs the tennis ball, then stands up straight again. She slowly moseys over to the serving position and blinks a few times. Then she looks up at the sky. A couple of birds fly past overhead and she says, "Hey, look it's a bluejay."

I look up and say, "I think that's a sparrow. It's not even blue."

She looks at me and says, "Whatever." Then she accidentally lets go of the tennis ball.

-

there's more but it won't fit in one post

>>12980612
>there's more but it won't fit in one post
protip: type backwards, this confuses the ai robot script reading our posts and sending them directly to Spikeman

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Your fortune: Outlook good

>>12980622
heres the rest:
The ball rolls away to her right. It stops in the middle of the white line marking the edge of the court. She looks at me and seems to be afraid of something. Then she looks like she doesn't know what to do next.

I say, "Are you gonna get that?"

Then she looks very sad. She says, "Should I not get it?"

I say, "Why wouldn't you?"

"Did you not want me to?"

"No, I want you to."

"Okay." She looks at the ball and trembles. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. We're in the middle of a game."

"Are we?"

I look at her with a mixture of confusion and anger. She sees the anger. She internalizes the anger. She hates herself. Because she made me angry again. She's always making daddy angry.

Here's the point at which I get extremely uncomfortable writing about this. I mean, for fuck's sake, this woman really has these issues. I should not make light of them in this way. I suddenly realize all of this while standing on the tennis court, which doesn't make sense considering I said I was writing this. But then I understand how the writer works outside of time and a few other things and I look at her and say:

"I'm not mad, I love you. I just want to play the game with you."

She is lost. She knows I'm mad. It's too late. We're going to have to take a break from the game. She needs a hug. I walk over to her side of the court and put my arms around her. She is a bit reluctant. Only because she doesn't think she deserves it. Ugh.

I hug her anyway and don't stop. I'll probably never stop. And we'll never finish this game. The crowd just stares at us.

Then the net in the middle of the court detaches itself on one side. It starts trundling over to us. Then it starts wrapping itself around our bodies. The net tightens and pulls us close. Then it gets too tight. It presses our bodies together so tightly that our skin starts to tear and our insides start to fall out and enmesh with eachother. Then we are one. And the crowd screams.