(no subject)
I keep...I'm vacillating between wanting to cry, wanting to beat the everloving shit out of something, and jumping at my own shadow. And they didn't even take anything. I am so, so lucky in that regard. But I keep thinking about it, and just the thought of staying there again (which I'm not planning to, but I keep thinking about it) makes me cringe and want to hide. And goddammit, I fucking grew up there.
I also keep blaming myself. I know it's irrational, I know. I could have come one day and then they broke into it the next. It would not have changed a thing. But I keep thinking I've done something wrong.
They didn't even take the Airsoft guns! They were IN PLAIN SIGHT in the basement! But maybe they saw them, were too stupid to notice the orange tips, and ran screaming because they thought we were gun runners. (Well, my M4 rifle does have a really shitty orange-tape tip that might as well not be there.) I do not fucking know. And I'm so terrified that somebody's going to come back, even though these people probably won't because if they didn't see anything to take the first time...but what if somebody else breaks into it?
But you know, for all of the shit tonight, I am so, so glad we weren't there when it happened. If somebody broke into a house while I was in it I honestly think I'd have a goddamn heart attack. Random ringing of doorbells or knocking of doors already scares me and makes my heart pound, and I have no earthly idea why, but kicking a door in? Yeah.
I <3 cops. And 911 and sheriff's office dispatchers, who were very calm and kind as I semi-hysterically tried to explain what happened. Absurdly, I kept wanting to ask the sheriff and the investigator what kind of service pistols they had, and I kinda wish I had (they looked like 9mm of some sort, though). The sheriff cleared every room in the house before he let us in, but we forgot to tell him which was the door to the basement, so I got to see him clear that. And you know, I didn't think anybody was still there, but it's a possibility. So thank you, Sheriff man, for putting your life on the line for me. Which, I know, is kinda what cops do, but still, it was extremely appreciated. Maybe I'll bake cupcakes for their office.
This pisses me off: I was in the bathroom running the water while we were there, and it spat and sputtered, and I jumped so badly I nearly had to be peeled off the ceiling. Christ. This is going to get old, fast. And part of me feels so stupid for this because it wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been. But the image of driving up and seeing that door standing open is not going to leave me anytime soon.
(This is pretty rambly, ugh. Apologies.)
I also keep blaming myself. I know it's irrational, I know. I could have come one day and then they broke into it the next. It would not have changed a thing. But I keep thinking I've done something wrong.
They didn't even take the Airsoft guns! They were IN PLAIN SIGHT in the basement! But maybe they saw them, were too stupid to notice the orange tips, and ran screaming because they thought we were gun runners. (Well, my M4 rifle does have a really shitty orange-tape tip that might as well not be there.) I do not fucking know. And I'm so terrified that somebody's going to come back, even though these people probably won't because if they didn't see anything to take the first time...but what if somebody else breaks into it?
But you know, for all of the shit tonight, I am so, so glad we weren't there when it happened. If somebody broke into a house while I was in it I honestly think I'd have a goddamn heart attack. Random ringing of doorbells or knocking of doors already scares me and makes my heart pound, and I have no earthly idea why, but kicking a door in? Yeah.
I <3 cops. And 911 and sheriff's office dispatchers, who were very calm and kind as I semi-hysterically tried to explain what happened. Absurdly, I kept wanting to ask the sheriff and the investigator what kind of service pistols they had, and I kinda wish I had (they looked like 9mm of some sort, though). The sheriff cleared every room in the house before he let us in, but we forgot to tell him which was the door to the basement, so I got to see him clear that. And you know, I didn't think anybody was still there, but it's a possibility. So thank you, Sheriff man, for putting your life on the line for me. Which, I know, is kinda what cops do, but still, it was extremely appreciated. Maybe I'll bake cupcakes for their office.
This pisses me off: I was in the bathroom running the water while we were there, and it spat and sputtered, and I jumped so badly I nearly had to be peeled off the ceiling. Christ. This is going to get old, fast. And part of me feels so stupid for this because it wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been. But the image of driving up and seeing that door standing open is not going to leave me anytime soon.
(This is pretty rambly, ugh. Apologies.)