CONFESSION TIEM.
I apologise for being a bit antisocial lately.. can't really explain it, just.. feeling a deep need to stay out of everyone's way recently. It's rather annoying.
I've had a really good time in the past few weeks, despite August being FUCKING INSANE. I've always hated August. There is just something about that month that always inspires chaos and this year has been no exception. I know chaos is meant to be a good thing but honestly the novelty is starting to wear thin.
There is one thing that I need to talk about, cause it's been eating away at me for the past 24 hours and shows no signs of giving up.
I had thought long and hard about various "edited" and "truth-bending" versions of this story that I could tell you guys, but it would solve no purpose whatsoever. So what I'm going to tell you is just plain and simply the truth.
Being that I am a little bit of a compulsive liar, this is going to be difficult. Picking reality from the tangled webs of fiction I spin in my head is usually a very messy business and most of the time I just don't bother to try.
Anyway..
It was my aunt's birthday on Saturday so we went to my cousin's house for a party, and after a good time there most of us headed out on the town to go clubbing.
I was pretty drunk by then, and my cousin was passing some weed around.. for the first time in my life I managed a good few hits of it without coughing, so I was kinda out-of-it when we got in the club.
My mum, being extremely money-conscious lately, was telling me to watch out for spare change on the floor of the club, as most of the patrons were completely off their faces and wouldn't notice if they completely missed their pocket while putting their money away. I was a good student at this game, and before long I had picked up around £6 this way.
Now, I was on the dancefloor completely letting myself go - which is news in itself but it's a story that doesn't need telling here - when I stand on something lumpy. I look down and see a small black purse under my shoe.
Having been keeping an eye out for cash the whole night, and being in a...uhh... less than coherent state of thinking, the first thought that flashed through my drunken mind was: £££ JACKPOT £££ !!!
I picked the purse up from the floor and put it in my pocket. I carried on dancing as if nothing had happened, and had a fucking awesome night.
It was only when I got home at about 3:30am that I took it out and had a look inside. There was a £10 note, some tiny tubes of lipstick, a loyalty card for the club and a mobile phone.
Seeing all this personal stuff in the purse did bring a spark of morality to my corrupted soul, and I put the money back in it.
At 4am the phone went off, and the caller ID proclaimed it to be "Home".
I was too wasted, ashamed and afraid to answer it. I turned the phone off and went to bed.
This morning I decided that I should just take the phone to the police.
I went to the police station this afternoon but apparantly they are closed on weekends and evenings. THE FUCKING POLICE. Argh.
The purse is still in my bag, the phone is still off.
I am planning to take it to the police again tomorrow before work, but I'm scared.
I'm scared of what to tell them if they ask where I found it, and I'm even more scared of what to say if they ask why I didn't just use the phone in there to call the owner.
I'm scared that the police won't be able to find the girl who owns it and she'll never get her stuff back.
I'm scared that I am an evil person for taking it in the first place.
I really don't know what to do. -_-;