one week

I don’t know if I’ve been putting off writing this, but certainly I haven’t had the energy for it.

Not sure whether to build up with lots of drama, or just say it. So, I’m pretty much just gonna say it.

So last week I was robbed. At gunpoint, semi-automatic handgun. My wallet and phone were stolen.

It happened pretty fast, but it’s amazing how many times you replay that over and over and over. And over.

I’m fine, although still short two replacement credit cards and an ATM card. My Wash U ID and Wal-Mart gift card probably are gone for good. I know, serves me right for having a Wal-Mart gift card.

I’m not sure how to explain it, but it’s a little difficult to talk about. Something just so raw and vulnerable about it. You know it’s dumb, but nonetheless, it is. Julie was asking how I was feeling, and this is what I wrote back to her: I'm annoyed. frustrated. saddened. embarrassed. alone. It's really lonely between a wall and a gun.

I can describe the scene pretty well, what we did that evening and what happened during those couple minutes. But making it personal is hard.

Fortunately I’m ok and they ditched most of the wallet, which a security guard at the arch found. Julie and I had gone to dinner, and while she was upset that she wasn’t with me at the time, I’m really glad she wasn’t. Things could have potentially turned out much worse.