I know some of you had an amazing weekend. Some of you might have gone to the Osheaga Festival. Some of you were in Buffalo. Some of you might have seen the Black-Eyed Peas at the Bell Centre. I was across the street from the Bell Centre, on the way to my studio, but first I decided to make a stop at the dep.
There was a bum standing in the doorway, who was about 7 feet tall, had graying hair, grayish eyes, in his late 40’s, white, and francophone. He tried to mug me. It was only because there were many witnesses that this mugging was unsuccessful. Otherwise he’d more than likely have put me into the hospital or even killed me.
A police car happened by as I was trying to get out of there. I filed a report and a line of people queued up behind me to do the same. Apparently this guy had been harassing and threatening people all day, getting a sick, evil, sadistic thrill from it. He very likely was successful in mugging other people and the store manager kept trying to keep him from haranguing and hurting the customers, especially BEFORE entering the store.
In a world like this, is it any wonder why I suffer from hypertension and gout?
It amazes me that I seem to be the victim so often. Maybe there is something to this secret nonsense I hear about. If that’s so, I’m considering checking myself into the nearest Anglophone mental institution.
I mean, I was tormented and tortured and bullied mercilessly throughout high school, have suffered spiritual, physical and financial difficulties throughout my adulthood, along with at one time being regularly harassed by police Then there’s the time I was beaten up in the metro for being “Un Maudite Anglais” according to the guy who attacked me there.
And the time a large group of police surrounded me, guns out, and made me take off my coat outside in the middle of winter a few years ago?
And when they would follow me because I “didn’t look right” for where I was living, or because I carried a schoolbag. I was coming from school. They saw my ID so many times, they shouldn’t have needed to check it anymore.
Then there was the time I blew a gasket over a rubber paycheck and the authorities were called in simply because I vented my frustrations instead of letting them fester and ferment inside me until I did something far worse and unspeakable.
I considered carrying some kind of a weapon to defend myself with, but I’m such a putz that it would probably end up being used against me.
That’s it. I’m cursed. Why else am I the lowest paid person where I work, and despite having seniority over others, I’m the first one to be laid off if it should come to that.
This ADD business is no fun at all. Couple that with low self-esteem and the fact that I’m constantly being cut down, maybe this is why my life seems to me to be a living hell.