Yeah, so this evening after a long day of work some autistic-esque asshole cut in front of me in line to get on the train for my evening commute and I totally wanted to beat him to death right then and there. And some lucid part of my brain was telling me that a lot of that anger inside me is probably coming from my daughter having been diagnosed with autism in the last month. But my lizard brain really wanted to hurt that guy. Badly. I wanted badly to hurt him bad, is what I mean. But instead I sat there and stewed in it for my whole commute. And then I realized that I’m just like some fucking after-school TV-special dad character trope with this shit. Real original. But it’s all just because I love so damn much! Right?