Thursday night both me and Derek were working late shifts. This isn't that unusual, in fact I kind of prefer it because by the time we both get home we're both too tired to snipe at each other and we just kinda peacefully coexist. That's good because I kind of needed my "home" such as it is to be a sanctuary now that I just don't feel like I gel with the people I'm working with and it's becoming more and more frustrating. I thought working with a bunch of easygoing hippie types would be no problems, but it turns out they can tell when you're not really one of them and... I dunno they judge me. Or I feel like they do.
So Thursday night, I was ready to come home and just flop down when I walk through the door and... the place has been ransacked. Like, okay, Derek and I aren't the two neatest guys-slash-chicks in the world, but shit was everywhere and I realized soon that someone had broken in and gone through our stuff. Dumped out drawers, stolen things out of our rooms... I had my computer with me at work, luckily, but Derek left Mona's laptop out in the open so that's gone. I wasn't even able to totally figure out what all they got, because I don't know everything in the apartment. A lot of jewelry, clothes, appliances, the TV, DVD player, DVDs... the gifts I was going to give my friends and family... all sorts of random items from around the apartment that I had no real understanding of.
As soon as I realized what happened I just stomped through the apartment screaming. It was the worst I've felt since waking up this way. Maybe even worse... that was a shock but it didn't all come to me at once. This was just immediate anxiety and fear and panic. I screamed myself hoarse and the neighbors came to see what happened and I was hysterical with tears when I explained that we got robbed... I couldn't even call the cops, I couldn't pull myself together. When the cops showed up they seemed mad at me for not being able to explain myself. Or maybe that was just my interpretation.
I was too embarrassed to call Angie and tell her. When Derek got home she said she'd figure out a way to explain it, but she was pissed at me.
She reminded me that I left our apartment keys in Maine. Even though they got sent back quickly, that was plenty of time of them to be copied.
Which means... one of the people in our bodies is a thief?
Like... how could they even get all the way to Vancouver from Boston, find the time when neither of us was home, get into our apartment and out with all that stuff?
Who are these people?
I've had the locks changed, but I still don't feel safe here. I can't exactly move, but James and I have talked about switching apartments at least for a little while. She hates her roommate and gets along better with Derek (who, again, fucking hates me now) so maybe it's for the best.
Here's the most upsetting part... they took my guy clothes.
I kept a few articles of clothing from my Cal wardrobe. It doesn't fit great, but girls wear their old boyfriends' clothes all the time, right? A pair of boxers, some shorts, a t-shirt. I slept in it sometimes, or wear it on laundry day. It made me feel connected to who I really am... and they fucking took them. Out of the laundry hamper.
I ask again... who are these people?
I'm so fucking scared right now.
How can you be sure it was someone from Maine? Could be just a regular burglar. You don't say if the lock was broken, but even if not, they could have picked it -- or it could have been left unlocked accidentally.
More important is the loss of your clothes. It's pretty hard to lose that last connection to your old self. But maybe it's just better for you to embrace the fact that it's panties only for you from now on.
What burglar would bother stealing clothes? They go for jewelry, electronics, cash. Whoever stole the clothes did it for a reason other than theft. There just isn't money in it.
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