What. The. Fuck.
Now, when you walk into my room, one of the biggest things you notice (other than the usual state of barely controlled chaos) is this giant tv I got as a present from my father and the xbox 360 I spent far too much of my own money on as a present to myself for moving up in this dismal little world of ours. I'm very proud of that tv and the xbox connected to them because they are the only real items of true materialistic value I own (and because it takes an advanced degree in electronics to set up everything I own to channel through that machine).
But they aren't there anymore. Neither is the playstation 2 that I promised my siblings would be best placed in my room with the larger, hd tv, or the laptop I was given as a gift by my best friends and former house-mates or my step-father's laptop, which, while not brand spanking new, was only bought a couple years ago. Every movie and video game I own is sitting in the middle of my floor, jammed into yarn bags, yarn bags that the burglars had to rummage through my whole closet to find and use, a kind of violation that I can neither comprehend nor explain.
I'm angry. Very very very angry. And sleep-deprived. And, overall, not a very pleasant person to be around. What I want, more than anything in the world, is to have 20 minutes in a room with each of the slimy bastards that walked into my house and took from me all the stuff I and my parents and my friends worked so hard for. Many of those things were gifts, very expensive gifts, things we have no way of replacing. Things around which my identity is based. 'I can afford to buy myself a new game system as a gift to myself.' 'I can watch movies with my siblings whenever I want.' 'I can set up my life to allow my family to share what I've come into by the grace of the sun and stars and shear unadulterated luck.' And because some assholes wanted a fix, I'm out all of that.
I'm very very very angry.
But they aren't there anymore. Neither is the playstation 2 that I promised my siblings would be best placed in my room with the larger, hd tv, or the laptop I was given as a gift by my best friends and former house-mates or my step-father's laptop, which, while not brand spanking new, was only bought a couple years ago. Every movie and video game I own is sitting in the middle of my floor, jammed into yarn bags, yarn bags that the burglars had to rummage through my whole closet to find and use, a kind of violation that I can neither comprehend nor explain.
I'm angry. Very very very angry. And sleep-deprived. And, overall, not a very pleasant person to be around. What I want, more than anything in the world, is to have 20 minutes in a room with each of the slimy bastards that walked into my house and took from me all the stuff I and my parents and my friends worked so hard for. Many of those things were gifts, very expensive gifts, things we have no way of replacing. Things around which my identity is based. 'I can afford to buy myself a new game system as a gift to myself.' 'I can watch movies with my siblings whenever I want.' 'I can set up my life to allow my family to share what I've come into by the grace of the sun and stars and shear unadulterated luck.' And because some assholes wanted a fix, I'm out all of that.
I'm very very very angry.