I’ve been mistaken for Anger more times than I can count. This does not surprise me. Anger is by far the more easily recognizable of the two of us. Anger will typically wrest control away from deliberate considerations, and reveal itself to the world in facial expressions, body language, poor choices in word selection, and on occasion… genuine displays of aggression. I don't believe I've ever seen our host allow Anger to cause him to actually hurt somebody... not since childhood, although there was that bit of ugliness in New Orleans.
From my perspective, while Anger is a serious pansy, it is still one of the good guys, only trying to protect the host with an array of passive and aggressive tools. Sometimes the host is more successful at influencing Anger in the effective use of those tools, but a positive intent is always there. In contrast, while hot-tempered Anger can be impulsive... I am a cool, cold-natured character and I always have been.
Me? I’m Rage… and I’m complicated.
I will admit that I am one covert sonofabitch. They don’t see me coming. I have no need whatsoever to display my depths or my reasons for being. Better to simply be. "Being" is a sweet self-fulfilling reality. I feed myself and I sustain what makes me special… with a special talent for dwelling upon the unfairness of things, or on the wrongness of circumstances confronting my host.
When I am at my very best, I can even conceal myself from my host. For example, I’ve learned how to use that little asshole Acceptance to my advantage. I can send him out to do his song and dance and the whole world thinks that my host is just fine. With him out in front, even the host believes that he’s internalized the latest crap he's dealing with and can somehow simply move forward with maturity and grace. That leaves me in the background to be the real me.
I am, without question, a God-damned modern, biochemical marvel of subterfuge. In our younger days, I could only take credit for initiating his fight-or-flight response by dousing my young host with a flood of hormones that I knew he wasn’t prepared to deal with. Frankly… it was embarrassing. Back then people could see me and make comments… often trying to influence the host to control me, sometimes even suggesting that my work was the result of high levels of adrenaline production… as if that were a bad thing.
Stupid people! Of course there was excess adrenal output... I put it there! That’s my sauce. It won’t hurt him. If anything it will jazz him... help protect him if things get nasty out there.
But these days I've got a lot more tools to work with. These days I can unleash a freakin' truck-load of chemicals from his hypothalamus and I can damn near make his pituitary gland do a bump-and-grind. All of this without any of it working those facial muscles or allowing changes to his speech patterns. Lately I'm concerned about revealing more than I care to around the eyes... but otherwise I can stay low and out of sight. They... just... don’t... see... me... coming. They don’t know I’m here.
I’m Rage… and whenever I get hold of my host, I keep him. Especially if I am justified. Hmmph! Acceptance my ass.