“At my aunt.

At you, when I found out you existed.

At my parents, sometimes, for dying and leaving me there.

And the therapist asked me once what the anger was for — not who it was at, but what it was for, what job I needed it to do.

And I realized I’d been using it to keep from feeling how sad I was.

As long as I was angry, I didn’t have to just be heartbroken.