Who broke into my house?

As I survey the mess in my room, I try hard to fight back the tears.

My sanctuary has been broken into. My comfort zone has been turned upside down. My drawers were pulled out and clothes thrown to the floor. My jewellery box is empty… except for the fake pearl necklace and a few plastic earrings.

Outside, my brother is swearing about his stolen playstation.

And worst of all…. worst of all, they took my cameras. All three of them. My precious barely four months old Sony H5. My Sony DSC40. And my brand new and never used Fuji Polaroid camera.

Numb. I’m so numb my eyes are glazed over as I type this. And I feel my first drop of tear since I left the police station. My tears are now slowly blurring the words in front of me and yet I can’t find comfort in its moisture. These words… even these words… and yet I’m still typing so I can keep myself busy, to keep my fingers busy.

My gold earrings, the last remaining piece of my jewellery set given by my father on my 21st birthday. The bracelet and necklace were stolen months before. I only had these earrings. And they took that too.

It’s just things…. it’s just things….

And yet when I think about it, they’re more than things to me.

My H5 was a surprise gift from my father. It took pictures of us. It took pictures of some of the most significant moments of my life. Feeling this way, I couldn’t believe I once thought of selling it. And there’s the Sony DSC40. A small compact that I used to carry everywhere and the sole purpose for its purchase was for my prom last year. I stopped using it when the LCD screen started going funny on me. Then the polaroid camera, given by my dad too because I insisted I must have it since he didn’t know how to use it. He had it in his room, and he had bought a polaroid camera just for the sake of owning one.

Now I have none.

And the gold earrings… it came with a bracelet, a necklace and a pendant. For the Chinese, it is customary to give gold on the day you become legal of age. What is even more sentimental to me is that, it is the first birthday present from my father after six years of separation. First, I lost the bracelet. I wore it everyday but one morning while I was driving down to my mum’s place, I noticed it was no longer around my wrist. I must had fuckloads on my mind because I didn’t even remember when I last saw it. After that, I was so afraid of losing the necklace and the pendant, I kept it in my jewellery box. But one day, it just went missing. The pair of earrings was the last intact piece of this jewellery set.

Now I have none.

I’m no longer numb. But I’m gasping through tears to see what else life has in store for me. First, the car accident. Then, this.

I hope you’re happy Big Guy. But this won’t kill me yet.

It’s just things… it’s just things…