Ahh nigga don't trip, you gon' make me get on some shit
Where I'm from you learn to blend in or get touched
I don't need niggaz for support, I don't walk with a crutch
Niggaz know my steez, they don't fuck with me son
You got a appetite for hollow-tips, I feed you my gun
This is Ferrari F-50 shit, it's real laid back
Type shit you recline to in the Maybachs
I got two shooters now on the run from the fuzz
You get the same shit for 10 bodies you get from one cuz
I live life in the fast lane; hundred miles an hour
50 Cent - "Position of Power"
Bitches,
Ever since I left home, my personality and or emotions took a flip to what they were back home. I felt I definately mellowed out as far as my anger was concerned. I hadn't had too many angry outbursts in a while, and I was definately enjoying the laid-back, laissez-faire demeanour that was becoming who I am.
That all ended yesterday, and old Alex reared back. I made it to the interview alright, albeit the getting there was the longest part of the whole day. I got back around 9pm, to the shop, only to discover an email asking me what the Brugal people wanted. Weird, because I definately hadn't sent any emails out to the group about it, a quick look at my sent and trash folders as well as the keylogger program I have, quickly pinpointed the accountant to be the culprit. Even when I confronted him about it, someone having entered my email, giving him the opportunity to fess up, he didn't. I left work hoping to calm down, let the nighttime breeze help my shoulders untense. Nothing. There's now this ever-growing rage in the back of my throat. I'm looking at him right now and I think, "I have so many ways to hurt you, I would love to share it with you." this white rage at the back of my head, causing my temples to throb. I haven't felt this way since I was back home. Now I'm here, and so is old Alex.
It's really quite sad, I'd love to not feel this way, I have always tried to rid myself of as much of my father's old influence on myself. But sometimes the "furia inca" pops up and I just want to lash out.
Like with most situations, I am pretty sure I can explain myself out of this. I always have back-up plans and my mom's poker-face to help me deal with this. The hate, however, remains.
I'm going to feel a lot more calm when I have a chance to talk to him again, confront him with evidence and explain my seething hatred towards him now; and then to see him off. I think, for the first time since I arrived, I feel completely alone when it comes to work. It should scare me, but I know I'll be prepared.
You fuck around if you wanna
Aa!
*EDIT* So I talked to him, I half-yelled. I told him our professional relationship was intact, but our personal one was no more. I couldn't trust him, after I had helped him firm his position in the company. I told him that if I ever had a chance, I would humiliate and embarrass him. I now have his email password.
I don't need niggaz for support, I don't walk with a crutch
Niggaz know my steez, they don't fuck with me son
You got a appetite for hollow-tips, I feed you my gun
This is Ferrari F-50 shit, it's real laid back
Type shit you recline to in the Maybachs
I got two shooters now on the run from the fuzz
You get the same shit for 10 bodies you get from one cuz
I live life in the fast lane; hundred miles an hour
50 Cent - "Position of Power"
Bitches,
Ever since I left home, my personality and or emotions took a flip to what they were back home. I felt I definately mellowed out as far as my anger was concerned. I hadn't had too many angry outbursts in a while, and I was definately enjoying the laid-back, laissez-faire demeanour that was becoming who I am.
That all ended yesterday, and old Alex reared back. I made it to the interview alright, albeit the getting there was the longest part of the whole day. I got back around 9pm, to the shop, only to discover an email asking me what the Brugal people wanted. Weird, because I definately hadn't sent any emails out to the group about it, a quick look at my sent and trash folders as well as the keylogger program I have, quickly pinpointed the accountant to be the culprit. Even when I confronted him about it, someone having entered my email, giving him the opportunity to fess up, he didn't. I left work hoping to calm down, let the nighttime breeze help my shoulders untense. Nothing. There's now this ever-growing rage in the back of my throat. I'm looking at him right now and I think, "I have so many ways to hurt you, I would love to share it with you." this white rage at the back of my head, causing my temples to throb. I haven't felt this way since I was back home. Now I'm here, and so is old Alex.
It's really quite sad, I'd love to not feel this way, I have always tried to rid myself of as much of my father's old influence on myself. But sometimes the "furia inca" pops up and I just want to lash out.
Like with most situations, I am pretty sure I can explain myself out of this. I always have back-up plans and my mom's poker-face to help me deal with this. The hate, however, remains.
I'm going to feel a lot more calm when I have a chance to talk to him again, confront him with evidence and explain my seething hatred towards him now; and then to see him off. I think, for the first time since I arrived, I feel completely alone when it comes to work. It should scare me, but I know I'll be prepared.
You fuck around if you wanna
Aa!
*EDIT* So I talked to him, I half-yelled. I told him our professional relationship was intact, but our personal one was no more. I couldn't trust him, after I had helped him firm his position in the company. I told him that if I ever had a chance, I would humiliate and embarrass him. I now have his email password.