There are really times that I hate the world. Being mugged on my doorstep. Having some punk-ass fool threaten me when I go to the mailbox. Have people try to slam the door in my face while shopping, and then laugh. I hate the idea that I have to be on guard against other people’s pointless maliciousness; on a regular basis. The act, or threat, itself is not the problem, so much as the inability to do anything productive about it during or afterwards. It’s powerlessness. Not in the sense of weakness, but in the sense that there is no action you can or could take that would make a good outcome. And I don’t handle frustration particularly well.
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