A crime of passion, in popular usage, refers to a crime in which the perpetrator commits a crime, especially assault or murder, against a spouse or other loved one (in my case, a family member) because of sudden strong impulse such as a jealous rage or heartbreak (who about just plain rage) rather than as a premeditated crime. In the United States civil courts, a crime of passion is referred to as temporary insanity.
Was that vivid enough for you? Did that create a mental picture of the amount of rage and despair I experienced last night as I discovered the latest escapade that my sister was involved in and how she used my identity to avoid getting immediately popped for a violation of parole. I don't even recall how I got home from the gym last night...I honestly don't remember. I remember calling my mother to tell her the latest and her insisting that I come straight home. I don't remember if she talked to me all the way home or what.
What I know for a fact is that the last straw was snapped, the camels back was finally broken. I don't care what anybody says anymore, I don't give a rats azz that she is "family." After 20+ years of letting the rabid dog continue to bite that hand that has been feeding, clothing & raising her children as my own; taking the freakin rabies shots of conscience, guilt & save-a-heffa - I AM DONE.
Remember this post...I didn't send that letter and didn't do what I said, but let me tell you now...THE GAME IS ON FOR F&*CKIN REAL.
Dear Sis -
Just cause you are family doesn't mean we have to keep letting you screw us over. We've been playing the suckers for so long...cause you was family. Guess what, sweetie. This village just ousted its idiots and you are on you eff'n own.
No more money. No, you can't come over anymore. No, I don't have any groceries for you. No you can't use my car. You are excommunicated from my life. Done. I will NOT be laying face down on the hood of a police car for some dumb azz ish you have done in my name. You have gone too far and have finally run up on the wrong one. Stupid heffa.Let's see how long you can survive screwing your friends like you've done your family. Oh, and when you end up back in jail, I will NOT accept your collect phone calls, I will no send you commissary money, I will not order you supplies from the prison catalogs, I will not put money on your phone card, I won't even get you stamps. Jail is gonna really suck without outside benefactors, huh.
(Holding my 3 middle fingers up) - READ BETWEEN THESE LINES SISTER. Yeah, I done said it. Humph. You just couldn't do right, not even to the hand that feeds you. It's too bad - cause now I've lost a sister.
May God have mercy on your soul.
Rest assured, I am in contact with your parole officer and several Detectives from the police department...you are going back to jail and it is now my mission in life to help them put you back there for good. Three strikes baby...the best therapy for a sociopath like you is confinement. I have to protect myself, my reputation, MY children, my family and if the only way to do that is to get you off the street...SO F&*CKIN BE IT! The only life that is going to be damaged or ruined is YOURS. TRUST ME!
It is done. *slowly, the red haze I see is dissipating from my eyes*
