Tonight I’m sad, and freaked out, but most of all I’m really angry.
My family has a summerhouse about two hours away from where we live, and today we got a call from one of the neighbours saying that someone had broken in. The thief had collected the more valuable stuff, like all our family antiques, in the hallway and were gonna come back for it later probably. It’s a relief that they didn’t take those things with them, because they’re the most valuable, and our neighbour is gonna keep all those things at her house so we don’t have to worry. And the police said that if they came back, they wouldn’t go back inside another time since they can tell that someone else has been there. It just freaks me out to know that someone who isn’t supposed to be there, has invaded our space. And what really makes me sad is that my grandfather, who bought the place like 40 years ago, is really really sad because it’s his home. All of his stuff, from when he grew up, is in that house. And we don’t know what they’ve taken, or ruined.
I hate that people are so disrespectful, and selfish that they go into someone else’s place, and just tear it up. We’re never gonna feel alright being there again, because it’s been tainted by someone else. It’s just so low and it makes me so angry cause it’s not just stuff, it’s our memories that they’ve taken. I hate them, I hate them, I hate them.
And I hate that when you’re doing alright, something has to happen to fuck it up. Yesterday I was all excited about a date, today I’m worried about everything. It’s not right.