There is a way we see anger. Hysterical. Erratic. Unstable. Anger becomes excess. Grief becomes insanity. Tears become evidence of brokenness— instead of proof that something is real. So we learn to quiet ourselves. To repress what is heavy. To carry what has nowhere else to go. This is accumulation. We are told it’s a requirement. To hide anger, grief. To quietly ferry the emotions of our ancestors. Generations have watched their children their bodies, their innocence, their