Everyone on TikTok keeps talking about this “6–7 rage” thing like they just discovered it. I’ve been living there for years. That’s my zip code.
My therapist says I need to “monitor my emotional range.” She doesn’t realize I already have — I’ve narrowed it down to one very comfortable bandwidth: mildly furious. That’s the sweet spot where the coffee tastes sharper, the air smells like bad decisions, and I can still make small talk while quietly grinding my molars into powder.
People post videos saying, “I’m at a 6–7 rage right now.” Cute. I’ve got a time-share there. I own property. There’s a community pool where we all gather to mumble “it’s fine” until someone breathes too loudly and ruins everything.
TikTok thinks this is a trend. For me, it’s emotional maintenance. If I drop below a 5, I lose my creative edge. If I hit an 8, I start emailing senators. So I keep it right where it belongs — between 6 and 7 — just under the boiling point, just above “reasonable adult.”
You don’t suppress rage. You curate it.