Friday, August 1

Subject | Object | Suspect

[Subject | Object | Suspect]

I got fingerprinted last night. Second time in my life. It's impossible to get that ink out from under your fingernails. And no, not because I did anything wrong. It was because someone broke into my new apartment while I was at work. [Same reason I was printed the previous time too about ten years ago. ] They got some cash and some jewelry and a chunk of my sense of well-being. Angry. I'm very angry.

Some of the jewelry is irreplaceable. Gifts from mama. Gift from daddy. A gold band of Aaron's. Things to which I am —was— emotionally attached.

But, it could have been worse.

I know it could have been worse.

I'm glad I didn't walk in on them. I'm glad it didn't happen when I was there. But they touched my stuff. They handled things that are personal. My environment has been sullied. My space has been violated. Angry. I'm very angry. And I feel unsafe.