And then the fighting starts...

On the edge of town
We'll never hold a line against so many men
Not this time around
Each day we fall a little further than the last
We can't hold our ground
This fight never started and it never ends
On the edge...


Is it wrong that the definition of fratricide equates to that of euphoria for me lately?
I've been fighting the urge to fucking burst in a fit of rage and revenge, and it's not going away. Just sitting in this hallway, knowing that the king of cunts is in the next room makes me want to fucking die, if not inflict damage upon someone else. This asshole is fucking dead in my book already.
I'm fucking tired of his malicious being making me want to tie the cord every second of the day. I don't need to be fucking scared for my life anytime he enters the room after a bad day. Since I've moved back to this hell hole, he's done nothing but steal from me, borrow from me and never return shit, and fucking attack my friends (physically and verbally) over rumours that his own fuckup, basehead, tweeker friends have fucking made up during their own drunken rants.
I'm done with this bastard. He's been a mistake since the day he was unintentionally conceived and he needs to go back to the nonexistence that he should have stayed in before I fucking snap and give him a consequence worse than he's ever had. This fucking asshole is so fucking stupid though, that even when he gets his poser ass beaten half to death, he still does not learn to keep his fucking mouth shut. Whether it's through myself or him, I'm going to fucking teach him a lesson. He better fucking kill himself before I figure out what to do. He has no future and can't even figure his way out of a paper bag, so there's no point in him even being around or causing anymore trouble to humanity.
If only he had fucking disappeared after he was jumped in Fairwood....