Fed up ~ Unedited version (Rated – Adult)

I was just thinking that I would close down my blog.  It served its purpose.  It was there to hold my hand through tough times, change, pain, joy, and much growth.  Although I have not gone blog to book yet which has been a goal for a long time.

I am so excited now that I am back on here though to see this new format!  Sooo much better for writing.  Aaaah.  The format had long been a source of annoyance to me.

But, all of that said, the real reason I am here, now, is I am getting angry.  Angry in a good way.  Angry in a way that I feel that energy propelling me to help make a difference in the world.  If even only through my written word.  I’m feeling kind of harsh.  Usually I am about peace and love but I have been reading and thinking about some of the evil in this country – the U.S. and I’m fed up with being nice.  Spewing love and goodwill to all.  I’m feeling like we need to start cracking down.  Usually I just feel devastated when I think about the sadistic acts of some of the people of this fine country (please read sarcasm into that word – fine).

I am not going to leave it at the acts of the sadistic perps, but also look long and hard at those who give these people a slap on the wrist.  I want to look also at neighbors, family, and friends of these people.  Not as accomplices but just look to see was their a clue that the person was committing or going to commit heinous acts against others.  I’ve also often thought about, do we really know people?  What goes on behind closed doors?  What really goes on?

There is so much damn dysfunction in this country that it’s not funny. It’s down right scary!  I need to check statistics.  I am a little worried though because for me that puts me in a pretty bad place, when I start seeing the startling numbers that aren’t talked about.  The numbers for women getting beaten by their partners, or children being killed by their parents or guardians, or men raping girls, including their daughters, or people kidnapping children and going on about their lives as though they are their own children.  Men kidnapping women and holding them prisoner for years.  Foster parents treating foster kids with abuse then allowing them to starve to death.  Crazy men who nail girls to crosses or shoot to death 50 people in a gay night club.  A crazy woman cutting open the belly of a pregnant woman to get the baby out and steal it.  A young man raping a 94 year old woman in her bed while she had been sleeping, until she died from the trauma.  A couple killing a mother and her daughter just to see what it was like to kill someone.  We live in a fucking sick country.  What goes on behind closed doors? What goes on the minds of these people?  We can’t see that either.  This does not touch on police killing innocent people.  That is a whole other essay.

We have a president who has been recorded talking personally about sexual assaulting women.  How do people overlook that?  How is that okay?  How can this man be ‘cleared’ to be president?  I don’t understand.  I saw a bumper sticker today that said Women for Trump.  How is this possible?  What kind of jacked up place do I live in?  I want to move to another country.  One without all of this illness.  But I don’t think my sons would want to come with me.  And how would a mother leave her children, even grown children in a place like this and bail on them?

How about Mr. President being concerned about these issues?  How about looking at the numbers for the crimes committed in this country every day instead of promoting paranoia about those from other countries.  Instead of wanting to ship law abiding citizens out of the country.  The majority of the crazy whacked out people are of white European descent.  Look at the stats Mr. President.

Help families who are in poverty rise above it.  Help with education, healthcare, social services.

For now, this may seem like a rant.  I will do research and keep walking forward with this one.

To be continued….

About Suzanne

I write poetry, flash fiction, quotes and personal essays. Words flow forth like a river that cannot be dammed. Writing is my soul.
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