Writing really is my therapy
Jan. 18th, 2006 09:01 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
maderrI honestly think that's why I rely so heavily on LJ. I write far better than I'll ever speak.
So.
Today fucking sucks.
I generally leave the house about 6:15-6:20. Left at 6:20 today. Saw two guys walking and while it's rare to see anyonejust walking on this street, it's not unusual. Hurry toward my stop. About halfway down the street. Hear someone running up behind me. Have about a half-second to think "Ha, yeah right" before I'm grabbed, turned, punched in the mouth (getting punched is weird. I think he sucks at it, or maybe he was being nice AHAHAHAAHAHAHAHA. My mouth feels funny, but it doesn't really hurt per se). I fell, tried to fight him off b/c I didn't know what he wanted -- he snatched the purse and took off. I screamed bloody murder and started running after him/back to the house. Sarah came out, then called the cops.
Should probably suck it up and go to work but I don't bloody fucking feel like it. Sarah bought me Starbucks and a cream-cheese streudel so I'm going to stay home and write.
The fucking cunt got everything. Everything. My checks, my cards (cancelled now, though I do hope they try to use the credit cards that have nothing on them anyway), my phone, my discman (which I grabbed last minute on a whim this morning), my goddamn keys.
Dear Pussy Who Took My Purse,
I hope you rot in mother fucking hell. I'm going to daydream about my father finding your sorry ass and putting you in the hospital.
I'm also dubbing you "Dick" and am going to kill you slowly in a story. You'll never know, but I will and I can do fun fun things.
Thoroughly pissed,
M.A.Derr
So.
Today fucking sucks.
I generally leave the house about 6:15-6:20. Left at 6:20 today. Saw two guys walking and while it's rare to see anyonejust walking on this street, it's not unusual. Hurry toward my stop. About halfway down the street. Hear someone running up behind me. Have about a half-second to think "Ha, yeah right" before I'm grabbed, turned, punched in the mouth (getting punched is weird. I think he sucks at it, or maybe he was being nice AHAHAHAAHAHAHAHA. My mouth feels funny, but it doesn't really hurt per se). I fell, tried to fight him off b/c I didn't know what he wanted -- he snatched the purse and took off. I screamed bloody murder and started running after him/back to the house. Sarah came out, then called the cops.
Should probably suck it up and go to work but I don't bloody fucking feel like it. Sarah bought me Starbucks and a cream-cheese streudel so I'm going to stay home and write.
The fucking cunt got everything. Everything. My checks, my cards (cancelled now, though I do hope they try to use the credit cards that have nothing on them anyway), my phone, my discman (which I grabbed last minute on a whim this morning), my goddamn keys.
Dear Pussy Who Took My Purse,
I hope you rot in mother fucking hell. I'm going to daydream about my father finding your sorry ass and putting you in the hospital.
I'm also dubbing you "Dick" and am going to kill you slowly in a story. You'll never know, but I will and I can do fun fun things.
Thoroughly pissed,
M.A.Derr
no subject
Date: 2006-01-18 02:28 pm (UTC)