There's Only So Much.

The 4th of July ended with a fight, and over the past few days, there's been tension. On the 5th of July, there was a small brawl on the streets of my childhood neighborhood.

What should have been a few kids fighting, turned into a sport of throwing metal objects, mase, and hitting people with bats? Unfortunately, I was not there and had only watched a video of my sisters and cousins get attacked by a bunch of assholes with bats, who later would showcase their "victory" on social media.

Of course, no one comes from war without a few scars. My 13-year-old cousin was hit with a bat by a 40-year-old woman with a pacemaker and loud mouth. I've been trying to deal with the situation calmly and intellectually, but anger always seeps through.

I haven't acted on my rage yet.

Now, this is part where some of you may agree with me, and others may agree with my Aunt.

Yesterday we threw a birthday party in the rain, and I listened to my Aunt tell me about how we should've just stayed out of the situation, and nothing would've happened. How WE should've called the police (somebody did) and how people would perceive us as a bunch of hoodlums with no home training who are always in search of a fight.

I. DON'T. GIVE. TWO. FUCKS.

My aunt has this holier than thou complex when it comes to my parent's children, in fact, a good portion of my Dad's side of the family are always trying to make it seems like we actively put ourselves in situations just for fun.

If the rolls were reversed and her children were attacked on the 4th of July, and her children were accosted at their home.

She would actively go out of her way to beat the asses of the people who wronged them.

It's always something when it comes down to my parent's children, and quite frankly, I'm sick of all this shit. There's more to this story, but that will have to be for another time.