Thank Crime for Peripeteia

And was October or September when I drifted away from this blog again, thinking that the everyday life – my everyday life, unlike others’ – was too dull – too conflictless – too peaceful – for me to relive in print. 


Long story short, Sober story drunk: I was stolen from. It rocked my world, it really did. Right in its struts, my world was rocked. How could this happen to me? I thought; who could do this?; who could do this and remain stoic and unbending with the shattering of my innocence under their deeds?

I was furious, sad but most of all, embarrassed. I thought that my naivete was once again exhibited, flashed at the world of sleazy boys and girls getting together, of drugs and rock and roll – of vulgarity, fucking and commonness. I know by now, as a “young woman” of the age of twenty, that when I’m shown up like that, a large part of my anger is born of shame and a desire to be more worldly.

But ultimately, this occasion, this occurrence of the loss of three hundred expensive Australian dollars, has lead me to back here, to you. All my die-hard fans, you’ve waited long, or not, for my return to the small, printed screen and only time will tell if you have never to wait again. When I have anger within me that I can’t rightfully release onto others, or express to someone who’ll understand all the words I use, I’ll always have the great, unlimitable plains of the Internet. 

I really can’t wrap my head around a person who can see someone’s suffering and not recant soon after. Inform me, Internet.