Anxiousness

I'm about 20 miles south of Florence, South Carolina. I just stopped for a short nap. A bumper nap. Just enough to keep me going. It's important to me for this truck to be sitting at the Greensboro terminal when Fuck-tard comes in.

I imagine I'll be examining this for a long time. What was the one thing that made me snap? Or was there one thing? Was it the culmination of dozens of little insults and minor injustices? One phrase has gone through my head; “I don't respond well to bullies.” I suppose that's it. This mostly has to do with showing Keith Watts that he has no control over me. And I suppose taking it upon myself to relocate from Kissimmee, Florida to Greensboro, North Carolina is a pretty determined act of defiance.

It's kind of funny. There's an anxiousness here, like some part of my brain doesn't grasp what I've done, and is still afraid of getting into trouble. Like I'm still afraid of what might happen. Even though at this point there's nothing they can do to me. What are they going to do? Fire me?