Bull's Eye

Jaw - dropped.
Garbage bag - dropped.
Heart - dropped.

I looked at the stark empty space outside of the back door of my apartment where my bike used to be in disbelief. There was absolutely no trace of it, like it had never even been there. No cast aside cover, no broken link to the chain, nothing.

This is the second act of theft I have experienced in three weeks. The first time, the burgular broke into my apartment and scooped up the few valuables that I had - my laptop, DVD's, and Nana's earrings. It took me a few days, but I convinced myself that, despite what the cops, locksmith, and friends and family thought, it was a random act and that I was still safe in my building. No big deal.

This time is different. I feel defeated and confused. I don't know whether I'm still safe in my building, in my neighborhood, in my life. Everyone seems to think the same thing - that this was done by the same person, who probably lives in the building. So what am I supposed to do with that theory? Ignore it and hope they leave me alone? Play Nancy Drew and try to figure out who it was? Live in constant paranoia and suspicion of everyone who crosses my path?

Here are some splices of advice that I've been given so far:

Mom: Pass out a flier to your neighbors making them aware of what's been going on, and fucking move when your lease is up. (But I don't want to move. My dumb ass still likes it here.)
Leah: Pass out a flier, it will give you back a sense of control over your life. (I am woman, hear me roar. Mew?)
Heather: Talk to your landlord, and be ultra aware of the people around you.
Vaughan: Pass out a flier and don't keep things on your porch anymore. (Duh.)
Boos: Maybe you should move out of the city and into the West End. (And into suburbia hell? My Bohemian side won't stand for it!)

The worst part of all of this is that it dregs up every negative emotion that I have been pushing aside for months. Usually I am so good about being "Strong Single Woman" that I even manage to convince myself that I don't need a man. GRRRR... I can do it myself! But in the last few weeks, these events have plunged me into realizing my lonlieness. I want a man to take care of me, to help me when bad things happen, or to just be around so that I'm not such a sitting duck. And then I feel ungrateful, because I have a ridiculously supportive family and a great network of friends - why isn't that enough?

I am sad. I don't know what to do. So I'm going into therapy. Just for the fun of it.

OH, and I'm going to take the insurance money that I get from my bike and buying myself a Seatbelt Bag. I'll get more use out of that anyway.