I Found Out Who I Am When I Am Angry

and it is one f@#%ed up version of Martha Stewart.

I walked outside today to find that my car had been broken into and my radio had been lifted.

The janitors outside were kind enough to tell me that my window had been punched in.

Thanks, like the broken dash wasn’t any indicator that something was amiss.

Glass all over the street in front of the school. I was starting to feel dejected and sorry for myself when I realized that I had done nothing wrong. I had parked MY car in front of MY house. It was locked and not anyone else’s to touch without my permission.

For the first time in a long time I was feeling rage boil beneth the surface of my skin.

It was not the broken glass.

It was not my missing car radio.

It was not the crotchy police woman who took my report.

It was the fact that someone had touched something of mine without asking.

Someone had broken something important to me.

Someone, whom I would probably not associate with in public, had sat in the front seat of my car and touched all my privacy.

This will not do.

I ran into my house and grabbed all my cleaning supplies. I pulled out everything in my car, washed the seat, took out all the mats, cleaned the dashboard and taped it back together. I could not stop cleaning and by the time I got into my house I had just barely scratched the surface of my anger. I tacked the bathroom. I sorted out all my toiletries. I bleached the tub, the sink, and the tile walls.

It was like I was giving this person a personal message.

In effect, there are certain things and people I care about. I need to take better care of them and up until now, I did not realize how much it would bother me if they were taken away or somehow altered.

But fuck you if you think I am going to sit around and watch you take things away from me without a fight.

I hope you enjoy my car radio.

K

~ by kmconrad on July 24, 2009.