I’m so sad. I’ve been sad for a while now. Since Wednesday. So now my sadness has been taking over me for five days in a row. And I feel like I have to write it down. Although I feel weird writing personal stuff after not having done so in a long while, I have to remind myself this is my personal blog after all.
It was Tuesday, second period. We were having Western Civilization class in a lecture room so huge it can really be called an assembly hall. It has about 400 seats. I dozed off because it was so boring, and then when I woke up I saw that a friend of mine, Kevin, who’s a Berkeley student coming home for New Year’s holidays, had texted me saying I should come to meet him that day at 1 pm, he brought my Kindle. I was so happy I could scream and my head could explode! After the class ended I hurriedly gathered my stuff and left the room, went down for lunch, to be ready to meet him.
When I got my Kindle I didn’t feel like going to the next class anymore. I hate this class — Intro Lang (whatever that stands for). So I cut class and went home. For the rest of the day I was the happiest girl in the world.
Until Wednesday morning.
On my way from home to the skytrain station I looked through my bag and noticed that my pencil bag was missing. I thought I’d left it in my locker the previous day, but I wasn’t sure, because I stopped by at a bookstore before I went home yesterday, and had to re-arrange the stuff in my bag because of the bulky Kindle. I recalled not seeing the pencil bag at that moment. So I thought I’d left it in the locker, or I must’ve lost it somewhere. I phoned my friend who shares my locker to see if it was in there. I was in the train then. She said no. I was like, cut it out, tell me the truth. She said she told the truth. I could feel myself turning pale. Where else could it be? I couldn’t possibly consider the thought that maybe I’d lost it. What was I going to do without it? It’s the reason I wanted to go to class after all!
When I got to the faculty I was panicking and crying like I’d lost a home. Though really, it did feel like losing a home. I looked in my locker. It wasn’t there. I was crying when my friends found me. It was 3 minutes before Translation class. It was obvious I was going to skip it. I was too upset. I told them I’d lost my pencil bag. Then one of them told me that in the beginning of the Intro Lang class on Tuesday, someone found a pencil bag, and brought it to the TA. He spoke through the microphone, holding the bag up, and asked if it belonged to anyone. No one came forward. And that was all she knew about my pencil bag. I said goodbye to them, they went to class. I went to find the TA. He wasn’t in yet, so I asked around for his number and called him. I asked whether he’d found it yesterday, he said yes, I asked where he put it, he said he put it on the professor table in front of the lecture classroom. In that friggin assembly hall of hell. I was somehow relieved because I didn’t think someone would want to steal a pencil bag. Then I went to that lecture room and found that it was in use, so I waited, waited, and waited for an hour. Then I decided I couldn’t wait anymore, so I walked through that door, said sorry to the professor in front of the class, and tried to find my pencil bag. Nothing was there.
The TA confirmed he put it there Tuesday evening when the class ended. Wednesday 10 am it wasn’t there anymore. I ran around looking for the maid stationed on that floor. Found her. Asked her. She didn’t see it. Now, let me tell you about the maids in my faculty. Everything they find, they return. They don’t take stuff. They don’t lie. What that meant was clear. It was stolen right after the class ended, just a few minutes before the maid came into the room to clean up. That only meant one thing. It was stolen by someone among my fellow faculty friends. I didn’t consider this at all. Why would someone do this? So I cried again desperately. I wanted it back. I wanted it. No, I needed it. I love it. Who could possibly have stolen it? I had no idea.
I spent the rest of the day being upset and crying at intervals. I was absent-minded the teachers were worried about me. Usually I’m their miss sunshine or whatever. That day I only stared at things, had a blank expression on my face, sniffed, sobbed, cried. I didn’t even bother to borrow some pens to take notes. I just didn’t care about anything anymore.
I’ve never given much thoughts about what my life would be like if I lost things closest to me. Things I take for granted because they are always there. Things like pencil bags. I’ve never considered that maybe I wouldn’t function without them. I was so careless. I’m not really the kind of person who forgets things. I guess I must’ve been really excited for the Kindle that day that I didn’t even bother checking my stuff, and really happy for the rest of the day that I didn’t even notice that my precious pencil bag was missing.
I really don’t know who to blame. Me or the thief.
Sure, my pencil bag was desirable. It was full to the brim of color pens and highlighters — all the things that made studying fun for me. But the thing I miss the most right now is the bag. It was the most perfect thing for me. Earlier in my life I’ve had lots of pencil cases and pencil bags, sure, but I always came back to this one. It was made for me. It was perfect. The size, the shape, the material it was made of that never seemed to get dirty even after 6 years of repetitve use. It was given to me by a publisher I was a crazy fan of. There was never anything like it. Now I lost it forever. I couldn’t find anything as perfect again.
I waited for it to be returned. On Wednesday, Thursday and Friday, I checked the Lost And Found cabinet, the lecture room, and asked the maid for more update, several times a day. In case the thief decided to return it. I even made a post in my faculty Facebook group begging for it back on Wednesday. Thursday it didn’t show up. Friday it still didn’t show up. I filed for permission to see the security tape, just in case I could see something. One must not lose hope, right? There was no security camera in the classroom, which would have made things much simpler if there was one. There are two entrances to the room, one on the far left, and one on the far right. The camera for the right door has stopped working for sometime now. I saw the tape of the left-door camera. It was in an incredibly low quality. And I decided that the thief must have put my pencil bag in his/her bag already before leaving the room. Everyone rushed out of the room at the same time. I didn’t see anyone holding anything. Or let’s say I didn’t see anything that helped me at all. It was hopeless.
I guess you don’t believe how far someone would go to get her pencil bag back? Go ahead and laugh all you want. You won’t ever understand how much it means to me. I don’t expect you to. But don’t think that it’s just a pencil bag, and that I should stop being a loser and get over it already. You probably don’t understand. Not gonna change anything. It’s the loss of something special. It’s the only thing I find myself thinking about these days. On Friday I commented on that post I made in the faculty Facebook group, begging the thief to please return it to me. I even left my locker number, in case he/she didn’t want to face me directly. I’m still hoping to get it back after the New Year holidays. Two days to go. I know I shouldn’t be hoping, but I really can’t help it. I need it so much. I’m just so lost without it. I know it sounds silly but if it’s not such a big deal to me then I wouldn’t be wailing like this, would I? You’re not in my shoes, you don’t know what it’s like. I can only hope that the thief sees my posts and decides to do the right thing. My locker’s open. That’s about as far as I can possibly go to get it back. If this doesn’t work, then I’ll have to prepare to be hit by waves of grief, sadness, bitterness, anger, frustration, tears, hopelessness, desperation, for who knows how long, before recovery comes.
Even then, I really have no idea how I’m going to go on with my life. I’ve got used to it. I’ve got used to having it around when I needed it. And now that it’s gone forever… I’m already devastated and depressed as it is. I don’t want to think about what will happen when I stand right in front of my locker again.
I’m so scared to death.
All these days I’ve been sad about the pencil bag, and not happy about the Kindle, remember? And.. now I’m wondering if the Kindle was even worth it at all.
