Some days, I wake up with a feeling of the phantom flowing of arteries near my neck, of blood being aspirated in my throat….

and, the very first thing that my tired mind touches down upon is the static-electric sensations attached to Hatred and Vengeance. I bask in the daydreams of horribly brutal images pertaining to those who buried me in a tomb of deceit and corruption; and happily allow myself the horrid pastime of entertaining the idea of revenge, someday…somehow.

I imagine walking into the courthouse with a pressure release belt made out of C4 and just Ka-Booming the place to ashes; I dream of physically throttling the piece of shit social worker Indira Anupindi until her eyeballs come out of her evil head; I envision her supervisor being mown down by a cowboy truck with 40” tires and then being dragged around by its tow hitch…I entertain the notion of watching the useless judge and her courthouse minions violently drown in arctic waters beneath a layer of solid ice sheet – pounding desperately against it with desperation and regret as the final expressions they will offer the world.

Now that everything is over, and the nightmare of being held hostage by the local courts through my delinquent child, I find myself being certain that wherever any of the above mentioned pieces of shit are now – they most definitely don’t give a second thought to the shambles they have left me with, in place of what should have been the rest of my life…just as certainly, comes the awareness of my own seething and rankling injuries; the ones inflicted by this specific arm of the corrupt government…

As I am prone to feel oppressed and uncertain down to a genetic level, these long simmering realities have come to weigh on me like an anchor over time; and my response has always been held in check because of the trickle my daughter might feel from my becoming a national news sensation behind whatever that response might be. I no longer give a fuck either way – not a care left at all in that context. I don’t think down the road when it comes to this issue of mine… not about who will be hurt by my response, not about how I might be personally hurt by my own response…not about anything else beyond Revenge.

And, on these days, it’s best if I just sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up.

HATE.

“You get justice in the next world; in this one you have the law.”
~ William Gaddis

I’m not angry at her; it’s hardly her fault at all – what she has become. I am angry at myself, at her monster of a sperm donor, and at the failed juvenile courts system of the United States of America. I am angry at the useless social workers who weren’t paying any attention to what I told them when I reached out for help with her so long ago; I am angry at the many handfuls of children’s services that miserably disappointed her needs back then; I am angry at the laughable façade called the JUSTICE that remains only through legend and lore.
I am angry at the judge who has sat back for over six years now and watched with a wretched smile as my only child has been spiritually battered to death under her “care”; I am angry at the court-appointed legal representative that gets paid to protect my daughter’s rights as a clueless child in the midst of a heinously constructed legal process; I am angry that my community doesn’t give a shit about my daughter’s demise; I am angry at the various grown men (at least one of them, an employee of above mentioned failed court system) who saw it fitting to have sex with my underage child, beginning when she was only eleven years old.
I am angry at the case worker who claims to love my daughter and truly care for her…she is undoubtedly the BIGGEST piece of shit breathing air at present – the one who could and should have stopped many things many times, but didn’t. I HATE HER. And, I hate nobody else in the Universe.