When I said toddlers are assholes, sometimes they grow into adult pricks. I suspect someone in the age range spanning adolescent to adult is the responsible party for dampening what would otherwise had been a perfectly lovely Christmas. Coming to the realization that someone pillaged a camera and my two best lenses from my car whilst it was at my house, delivered competing emotions. There was the sinking frosty darkness in the pit of the gut, spawned from being helpless against the violation of my sanctuary, but also there was the boiling lava of unbridled rage desperate for someone to victimize.
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| Fe Fi Fo Fum, Mother-fuckers! |
If you were to chart the two emotions over time, they grew steadily and steeply immediately following the discovery of my loss, slowed their ascent after about an hour, then began to fade much slower than it rose, an hour after that... but anytime I talked about it the wildfire of unfocused fury spiked again, and the icy, inky gut-punch never really did.
This long removed from the initial shock of the theft, I am feeling less like a homicidal viking berserker and more like an irritated rattlesnake. I will subsist and mayhap with the begining of a new year I will let go my anger or find a productive channel to pour it into, but tonight it lives inside of me and does nothing to improve me or my situation.
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