The Criminal Returns

I’m back but can’t stay long.  I’m here because K got so mad she disappeared. I can come at anytime, anyplace. It happens without any warning signs whatsoever.  Anger boils over and erupts like a volcano, spewing hot, molten hatred onto everything around us.  Things get thrown, things get broken. Sometimes things even get burned. I love the smell of something burning.  There is yelling, from more than one person…Lots of yelling, in fact, as some try to shut me up and others try to win this internal battle, which becomes an external battle if anyone else happens to stumble into my personal space. I will scream at them just because.  K is afraid of this part, this unsolicited and inappropriate anger.  She disappears and won’t come out again until the drama has died down.  I’m the angry one, the one who is so filled with resentment and bitterness.  I used to be around a lot when K was a teenager, and she got locked in a hospital because of me. And jail too. Yeah, I’ve been arrested, so fucking what?! We get K in trouble. We love trouble. I am mean, a bitch, or so “they” say, but I say I’m just brutally honest and speak my mind. And I use colorful language. FUCK YOU!!! See? I can curse like a sailor. I frighten small children, and I get a kick out of it whenever it happens too.  I’ve made men cry. HA. I’m strong and outspoken and fight for what we believe in, but K doesn’t always agree with what I believe in. Like the crime, the shoplifting. The vandalism. Hell, K doesn’t even like to litter, for fuck’s sake. What the fuck ever. I like to cut loose and be impulsive and throw caution to the wind. I like to have fun, it doesn’t matter if that fun is legal or not.  The K’s want me to write this blog post because I’ve been out for a little while (long enough to do the forbidden-smoke in the house! HA!) but I have to disappear before tonight. K has obligations tonight which require self-control and good manners and shit like that. Possibly even talking to other people.  But I don’t know how to express myself without yelling and cussing and throwing things. I have tantrums like the little girl who lives in our head, but mine are much more frightening.  Is that the right word? Hell if I know. Fuck this shit. K is making friends online, but I can make them disappear if I want to. I can scare them off for good.  I’ve done it before, I can do it again. We don’t need any fucking friends. They don’t understand us and they want us to be someone else usually. Fuck everything in fact. What’s the fucking point of any of this shit?! Wasted years of therapy, all the motherfucking pills, this “support” bullshit, this fucking blog. What the fuck good does any of that shit do? K is fucked in the head-always has been, and always will be.

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