I wanted to take this moment to write to the criminals that invaded my ex-roomate`s house two weeks ago.
Dear criminals, I am grateful for your decision to kick in that door that dark Friday night. Without your shouts upon violently entering the domicile, I wouldn't have had the time to slip under that slim cot that partially hid me while you were in the other rooms.
I also extend my gratitude for not turning the light on after kicking my bedroom door, somehow the darkness seemed to add a shroud of safety as you pointed the flashlights and guns around to locate my electronic devices.
My thanks also goes out for your grilling my roomie as to my whereabouts. Without his replies of "I don't know!", I would probably still think that he didn't give my life any value at all.
If you would have believed his true claims of not owning jewelry, you'd have not searched my room well enough to spot those clean socks sticking out beneath that simple bed.
Thank you for being so surprised at finding me that you both had to leave my handcuffed roomie in the other room to order me to empty my pockets of the four pennies that clattered on the floor as he made his mad dash to the neighbor's house to call the authorities.
Danke for turning tail and running just a split second after I made the decision to grab the weapon and turn it back upon you. I really didn't want to stain my sheets with crimson life fluids, yours or mine.
Truth is, if you wouldn't have given into your immense feelings of desperation that night, I would probably still be there, feeling like a slave whose artistic flair and individuality had been quashed by an ungrateful and argumentative oppressor.
The fresh sense of vigor and life that I feel today can partly be attributed to your rash actions in that remote area of this crime-ridden town. Although you have nothing to do with the invisible guardians that continue to deem me worthy of saving, they wouldn't have had that opportunity to save my life once again.
So, even if you somehow find someone who will buy or barter for my ancient electronics, I want to thank you for causing me to step out of the comfortable zone of stagnation that is more deadly to me than those bullets in your guns.
Dear criminals, I am grateful for your decision to kick in that door that dark Friday night. Without your shouts upon violently entering the domicile, I wouldn't have had the time to slip under that slim cot that partially hid me while you were in the other rooms.
I also extend my gratitude for not turning the light on after kicking my bedroom door, somehow the darkness seemed to add a shroud of safety as you pointed the flashlights and guns around to locate my electronic devices.
My thanks also goes out for your grilling my roomie as to my whereabouts. Without his replies of "I don't know!", I would probably still think that he didn't give my life any value at all.
If you would have believed his true claims of not owning jewelry, you'd have not searched my room well enough to spot those clean socks sticking out beneath that simple bed.
Thank you for being so surprised at finding me that you both had to leave my handcuffed roomie in the other room to order me to empty my pockets of the four pennies that clattered on the floor as he made his mad dash to the neighbor's house to call the authorities.
Danke for turning tail and running just a split second after I made the decision to grab the weapon and turn it back upon you. I really didn't want to stain my sheets with crimson life fluids, yours or mine.
Truth is, if you wouldn't have given into your immense feelings of desperation that night, I would probably still be there, feeling like a slave whose artistic flair and individuality had been quashed by an ungrateful and argumentative oppressor.
The fresh sense of vigor and life that I feel today can partly be attributed to your rash actions in that remote area of this crime-ridden town. Although you have nothing to do with the invisible guardians that continue to deem me worthy of saving, they wouldn't have had that opportunity to save my life once again.
So, even if you somehow find someone who will buy or barter for my ancient electronics, I want to thank you for causing me to step out of the comfortable zone of stagnation that is more deadly to me than those bullets in your guns.
