There's definitely an intense anger that I have inside, and I

Host: The setting is a dimly lit apartment on the edge of the city, its walls lined with old books, photographs, and a few pieces of furniture that look more lived-in than designed. The air is stale, filled with the scent of cigarettes and something heavier, something unspoken. Jack sits at the small kitchen table, his fingers tapping impatiently against the surface. Across from him, Jeeny leans against the counter, her back straight, eyes reflecting a deep, quiet understanding. The world outside is muffled by the thick glass, and for now, the world inside is a quiet storm of its own.

Jack: “So, you’re telling me that there’s this deep, burning anger inside me that I don’t even know where it came from?” His voice is sharp, almost as if the very suggestion cuts deeper than it should. He looks at her, his expression guarded, as if trying to mask a pain he doesn’t quite understand himself. “I’ve had it all my life, Jeeny. My mom used to tell me I was gonna end up in jail with that temper of mine. She wasn’t wrong, either. It’s not like I haven’t felt it — that need to just… explode.” He runs a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. “But I don’t know where it came from. It’s like this thing inside me that’s always been there, but I’ve never been able to figure out how to get rid of it.”

Jeeny: She watches him closely, her gaze soft but penetrating, as if she can see the struggle beneath his words. “It sounds like you’ve been holding onto something for a long time, Jack. Anger isn’t just about something happening in the moment — it’s often something that builds up over time, from hurt, from feeling powerless.” She steps closer, her voice calm but filled with an underlying strength. “Maybe you’ve been carrying this weight for so long, that you don’t even remember when it started. But it’s there, and it’s been there, and you’re right — it’s not something you just shake off.”

Jack: His eyes flicker with something like frustration and confusion. “But I can’t keep living like this, Jeeny. Every time something happens — no matter how small — it feels like I’m ready to explode. I feel like I’m on the edge all the time, like there’s this wall I keep slamming into, and all that comes out is this rage.” He stands up, pacing, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. “I don’t know how to deal with it. How do you deal with something that’s been part of you for so long?”

Jeeny: She crosses her arms, watching him carefully, her voice still steady, but filled with a quiet empathy. “You don’t just deal with it, Jack. You learn to understand it. You learn where it comes from, why it’s there. Maybe it’s about more than just a temper. Maybe it’s about something you’ve been too afraid to face — something that’s been buried for so long that it’s come out like a monster.” She looks at him with a deep, knowing gaze, her words slicing through the tension. “Maybe that anger isn’t even about the things that are happening now, but about everything that came before.”

Jack: He stops pacing, his breath coming faster, his chest tightening as the weight of her words settle around him. “You mean like my mom? The things she said to me? Or all the things I’ve never said, the things I’ve kept locked away?” He shakes his head, his voice almost bitter. “I don’t know how to fix that. It’s like I’ve been holding onto this thing for so long that I’m not even sure how to let go of it anymore.” He exhales sharply, as though the idea is too much to bear.

Jeeny: She steps forward, placing a hand on his arm, her touch gentle but firm, grounding him. “You don’t have to fix it all at once, Jack. Anger doesn’t just disappear, and you can’t erase the past. But you can choose to start understanding it. You can choose to stop letting it control you.” Her eyes are soft, but full of a fire that only comes from someone who understands the depth of what he’s carrying. “You can choose to face what it really is, and not let it destroy you, not let it dictate who you are.”

Jack: His eyes flicker with doubt, but there’s a crack in his resolve, a quiet vulnerability that wasn’t there before. “But what if it does destroy me? What if that anger is too much to face? Too much to hold inside and still come out okay on the other side?” His voice is barely above a whisper now, the weight of the question hanging in the air between them.

Jeeny: “Then you learn, Jack. You learn to deal with it, to understand that you are more than just your anger. You are more than the things that have been said to you, or done to you. You are more than this temper that you think defines you.” Her voice cracks slightly, a note of passion and desperation threading through. “You are allowed to be angry, but you’re also allowed to heal from it. It doesn’t have to be the thing that ruins you.”

Host: There’s a shift in the air, something almost palpable, as though the room itself is holding its breath. Jack’s fists unclench, but the tension still lingers, like a knot in his chest that refuses to loosen. The silence between them is filled with something deeper — an unspoken understanding, a recognition that this conversation isn’t just about anger. It’s about everything beneath the surface.

Jack: He swallows, the words feeling heavier than they should. “I’ve been carrying this for so long, Jeeny. I don’t even know where it ends.” His voice is softer now, quieter, as if he’s realizing something he’s been avoiding. “Maybe it’s time to start figuring that out.”

Jeeny: “It’s not about figuring it all out at once. It’s about taking one step, just one, in the right direction. You don’t have to fix it, Jack. You just have to understand it — and let it have less control over you.” She smiles, but it’s a small, knowing smile, as though she can see the weight beginning to lift, even just a little.

Host: The tension in the room eases, just slightly, as Jack stands there, still processing her words. The air feels lighter, even with the storm still brewing outside. The world seems quieter now, more still. Perhaps, in this moment, there is the beginning of something. Perhaps, for the first time, he can see the possibility of letting go of the anger that has always felt like it would define him.

Jack: “Maybe I can do that.” His voice is tentative, but there’s a glimmer of hope in it — a spark of something that might, one day, turn into a fire of its own. “Maybe it’s time to finally figure out where this anger really comes from.”

Jeeny: “One step at a time, Jack. One step at a time.” Her hand lingers on his arm for a moment longer, and then she steps back, watching him, letting him process her words. In that silence, there is understanding — and for the first time in a long time, the possibility of change.