A void in my chest was beginning to fill with anger. Quiet, defeated anger that guaranteed me the right to my hurt, that believed no one could possibly understand that hurt.

I was lonely. I felt it deeply and permanently, that this state of being on my own might never disappear. But I welcomed the lonliness, which had everything to do with being anonymous. It's never lonliness that nibbles away at a person's insides, but not having room inside themselves to be comfortably alone.

There's very little room for anger. It's all hurt. It's all sadness,

Pain in the present is experienced as hurt,
pain in the past is remembered as anger.

My mother she was heaven bound, I did not see it then but i see it now, being a child wasn't an easy thing watching my back with everything i did, hiding in corners crying for it to stop then silence i can hear it not! the pains she had the marks on her face, the anger i had he was a disgrace, now I'm grown i can show him pain, his life will no longer be the same

Anger is just a cowardly extension of sadness. It's a lot easier to be angry at someone than it is to tell them you're hurt.