Journal #3 4/6/2023

I got into a fight yesterday. It was physical, the first physical fight I've ever had. It was actually pretty tame, especially compared to what he did to his son. I am not one for violence or conflict. In fact, I try to avoid it at all costs, and I despise it. But yesterday was different for some reason. Seeing the rage in his face and hearing it in his voice made me see red. I now know what the term actually means. I didn't punch him, I told him he couldn't talk to her like that. Then he grabbed me, and tried to put me in a headlock. I could feel him. I could feel the rage, the intensity, the animalistic reactions coming from him. He pushed, hard, but I pushed back. I didn't want to get physical, but I thought that something had to be done. He has done so much damage and has left his mark on so many people. He really went after his son though. He stepped in when he saw that I was in trouble. They both screamed the whole time. He put both of his hands around his son's neck and squeezed. He fought back though, and he got a few good punches on his dad. He hit him enough to let him go, then he tried to put his son in a headlock. I can't remember much more honestly. It happened very quickly, just a matter of seconds. The whole thing probably took 45 seconds. She called the police, and he started to leave. He ran, got in his truck and ran like the coward he is. He runs everytime, especially when the police get involved. I don't think he realizes how poorly that reflects on himself. We all wrote statements. We were told that he could be charged with felony assault. Never thought I would say this, but I hope he does get charged. I hope he goes to prison, and I hope they can get a protective order against him. That's the only way he will ever leave. He knows we hate him, at the very best tolerate him. He has had so many chances just in the few years I've been around. He's had a whole lot more before then too. He's the same person he's always been, and he doesn't want to change.

The anger I felt was so real and visceral. I've never heard my voice sound like that. I've never felt my body move like that. I didn't know what the hell I was doing, but I also knew exactly what I was doing. It was scary, the whole thing. I'm not sorry though. I'd do it again if I had to. This time I'd put my class ring on and make sure he got a new tattoo on his face.

I'm still a little riled up, as you can see. My nerves are jittery, and I've had plenty of down-time today to sit here and think about it all, not to mention the sleep deprivation. I hope his son is okay. I know that he is physically, but he's had a rough childhood and things still haven't changed. I think they're starting to change now though. He made his decision when he went in on his Dad. He knows that he's not a good person, and that if he wants to have a normal life, he has to defend it. That's a sad truth, but a truth nonetheless, and he stepped up. He's too young for all of this.

It's been weird thinking about the whole thing. On one hand I feel guilty, like I will get in trouble. I'm scared of that. On the other hand, I don't care at all. I think he got what he deserved. He probably got less than what he deserved, but I think he got the message. If I do get in trouble, which I don't think I will, it will be worth it. I'll pay a fine or do community service or whatever, as long as He pays for everything he's done to his family. I feel a sense of acceptance, but it's not totally there yet. I accept that it did happen, and that I did decide to make him stop. It just happened so quickly.