SOC #20: The Big Scare and Bending to break

Some can't handle the aggravating environment they occupy. Most lash out with verbal words of frustration, curse at nothing or others, which basically contributes to the aggravation. Not so smart. People speak without thinking about the consequences. Seems to me they act as if they got a protective shield around them that can prevent them from getting hurt. Then unsurprisingly someone yells back, or out of the blue a fist slams into a face. The people without badges tend to enjoy this. Hell, even the ones with the badges love it; they get keep up with the average of everyday crimes, a.k.a "quota," then the event is talked about until it fades with memory until it is possibly reminisced at a later time. Those who can't handle the environment to the point their peace of mind is snapped, right away tend to lash out with no restraint, from a horrific threat to actually - at the spur of the moment - acting it out in reality out of nowhere. Some may say later, if the act was truly performed, that they saw it coming with no one else recollecting they actually did. "Oh, yeah, he acted out of the ordinary. I knew he'd do something like that," one would say. A sane one would ask, "Then why didn't you say anything? Tell someone with authority?" That's right, numb-nuts, you didn't know. Then there are times when the apparent sane make it worse, expecting nothing to happen. They taunt a manic depressive, and over time that same damn person they taunt will act out, causing The Big Scare. Without them even realizing it, or even admitting it, due to their own stupidity, they began the bending of the vulnerable by the taunting, pushing it even further by the talking. Without even stopping to think about the consequences of their words, they initiated an event that scared them, something that could make themselves violent. But it's okay, right? They're innocent. They just simply pointed their fingers and laughed. And BOO HOO, they got scared, those poor adult children. Nothing actually happened, words were spoken, but nothing else. As if a cold wind ran over their skins, they cried out, "Damn, I'm fucking cold." Bitch, bitch. Now there's another story to talk about in the sewing circle; a mental jerk off for the masses in the immediate vicinity. Sing on, ding dongs, it was basically your fault, and only the unbiased observer will admit it, whom also will look upon your lives with disdain as always. One picture can have a million interpretations, none of which will ever align with what the artist intended, if he ever intended anything at all. Those who only accept what they are told will attain nothing in life compared to those whom work to obtain the truth with their own selfish effort. These words written may even mean nothing to the writer. Come on, now, there's nothing to back this up as being concrete, but just the clicks of a keyboard in a moment of ones life. A moment of ones life does not define the sum total of ones mind; only life in its entirety can do that.