Bitch Slapping Grease
So life at home has reached a weird tone. Secrets kept, but only if suspicions are correct are they real secrets, otherwise it's just paranoia. The violent fantasies are becoming more elaborate if remaining only on the "I would say that" level. It's starting to feel like letting loose would be very satisfying, in the way punching a brick of lard is satisfying, it feels good but the clean up is a bitch.