The law is what we count on...

...in a civilised world, when we really want to take matters into our own hands and seek retribution. I'm counting on the fact that our judicial system will handle all of this Walter bullshit in an appropriate manner. I just hope it doesn't take too long because I'm already having a tough time holding back my desire to do harm in a way of which I wouldn't be proud. But seriously, when life gets this bad, what is the price? Is it really worse than the ridiculous situation in which I find myself right now? Honestly, what does society have to threaten me with? Being a prisoner? Been there and done that without having a chance to break the law. Walter held me prisoner in his own way without allowing me due process. Although I fully accept my own responsibility in what has been going on in my life, Walter didn't have to take advantage of my situation. But he did. He preyed on every weakness I showed and I showed him far too many. Still, I've never stopped anyone from walking away peacefully nor have I ever felt the desire to actually assault another person in the heat of battle. I've simply never been that angry. But I gotta tell you, I'm really fricking close right now.

I feel myself getting angrier and angrier every day. Yesterday was interesting and caustically vexatious. I woke up at about 3 AM (I've actually taken to going to bed before 6 PM lately, there's nothing else to do except read and that puts me to sleep after 6 anyway) and actually, I was in a relatively pleasant mood. I was cool until some asshole implied that I fell and broke my jaw after eating a handful of pills. If I did, I would tell you, or him...but I wouldn't lie about it. It simply isn't true. I'd love to blame it on something stupid like that but the plain and simple truth is that I did it stone cold sober. Except for the time I broke my arm and right baby toe falling down a flight of stairs while drinking, I've been sober as a judge for all of my other orthopedic injuries. It boils down to this...I am a klutz. And...on top of that, the stroke left me with poor equilibrium. That's it, nothing dreadful for anyone to talk about at the next family reunion but that won't stop them from trying. What the fuck ever. My point is, I was not pleased with the SOB who now, has brought this up twice. If you don't believe me, I'd rather you call me a liar outright then to gossip dishonest chatter amongst other people who need a self-esteem boost at my expense. I'm pretty used to it but every so often, it gets to me. That's most likely because I'm not present when most of my "friends" and family spread crap about me. But I heard this idiot, loudly and clearly. He said it to my face twice...and I told him the first time that it wasn't true, there was no need to bring it up again...and when he did, that just plucked my last raw nerve...big time.

That was pretty much all it took. As Eric Cartman would say, "It was on." I was waiting for someone to give me a chance to go off on them. By that I mean verbally, remember I don't usually get violent. So, before noon, I told 4 guys to "Fuck your mother." I walked into an argument where a huge black dude was going off on a skinny white boy. The white boy stood no chance. The black guy was shouting, "Who you callin' punk, mother fucker?" over and over again. I don't know what started that but it was clear the guy was overreacting considering the small stature of the white guy. It occurred to me that I was more of a match for the black dude so I said, "Let it go...PUNK!" Then he started going off on me. That guy squared off at me and I stood right up to his stupid self and said, "My mistake, you're not a punk. You're a BITCH PUNK!" That's when we were pulled apart from each other. That felt good but I'm actually pretty glad that I didn't have to see that one through although I had a plan to go for his knees and get him down then I would have started kicking him in the head. That's mighty harsh thinking for me, let me tell you. But that's what was going through my mind at the time. My last attempt at getting smacked came shortly after that. There's a guy here named Jimmy who has told me that he likes me. Leave it at that, I certainly am. But, when I see him walking around during the day, he acts like an idiot. He starts bitching at anyone who says BOO to him. Although he later said that he never cussed me out yesterday morning, I absolutely took it as being cussed out. I trust me on that one. So...I thought about how sweet he had been Monday night when he let me watch hours of Family Guy on his TV when he didn't really want to watch it and then, I thought of how he cussed me out and before I knew it, I had my chance. He said, "Hi!" and I said "Fuck your mother." He was walking down the stairs and I was going up the stairs. By the time he got to the bottom, he turned around and said, "What's my mama got to do with anything?" My retort was..."Didn't I just tell you to fuck your mother? You have no business talking to me when you should be fucking your mother. Now get the fuck outta here." He started bitching about getting me kicked out of here and I said, "Come up these stairs you chicken shit. Man up and get your ass up here." He started to climb the stairs and I said, "I bet you go down faster than you're coming up." I think it occurred to him that I had the tactical advantage being at the top of the stairs...he finally gave up. The funny part was, when he reached his highest point on the stairs, right before he turned around, he yelled at a cat. I guffawed right there so loudly that I could tell he was annoyed but he probably knew that it was a no win situation for him. At his best, he does seem capable of rational thought. Then I called him a "cat bitch" everytime I passed him yesterday.

By noon my mood had changed and I was my usual sweet self again. But, it did occur to me that I have unfinished business with Walter. And since he showed up here unannounced yesterday, I think he should start wondering when and where I might just pop up. Talk about "No more Mr. Nice Guy." I can summon my anger at that SOB easily. I have something going for me that Walter never has had...the ability to outrun his fat ass. If we're outside, I have the advantage...I assure you. The only way he wins is if we're inside and his brute strength alone stops me from opening the door. But get outside and he's fucking toast. I'm getting irritated just thinking about that stupid SOB so let's change the subject.

For the most part, my daughter and her son are giving me the strength to deal with this situation in the right way. But also, there are a bunch of other people who have donated their own cash to me in answer to my plea for help. Little bits mean so much, a 5 dollar donation came in while I was sleeping and that meant so much to me, it woke me up with a huge smile just thinking about how kind that was. For someone to go out of their way to send me 5 bucks means that they can barely spare it themselves. That's why it means so much to me. One chick actually apologised for not being able to send more than she already sent. These people don't have spare cash lying around, I know that. I appreciate it so much...I didn't want to go without saying that. It's just that type of thing that keeps me from climbing to the top of this Tampa Bay bridge:

And trust me...the thought has crossed my mind more than once. But as I've said, my daughter, her son and the people who cared enough to send a few bucks keep me grounded.

But, if I were Walter, I wouldn't want to run into me in a dark alley.