Look, we’re all guilty of something. Not a single son of a bitch among us is guiltless. I’m not, you’re not, we’re not.
But that doesn’t make getting run over, abused, slandered, taken advantage of, ignored, cheated, lied to, made fun of, shot at, shot up, set up, duped, blindsided, raped, robbed or ruined any less painful. But watching that person or gang or group get away with it all adds a triple topping of shitiness.
Injustice keeps the wounds open. It’s a chronic invitation to relive the pain, to be flooded with the feelings. It cements our feet into the ground of the last place we ever want to be.
All of this is well worn territory for me. The kid who shot my teacher…