I was with Katy and our friend Jacob. I was drilling Jacob for dating advice--he asked me about Zach and the break in and I just totally started crying, softly, quietly, endlessly. He felt pretty bad. No one wants to see a girl cry. I tried to get it together, but it took a minute and a laugh. I don't feel bad for crying. I cheered and jumped up and down when Spain won the semi-final game against Germany, and I cried myself to sleep the night before. (This girl will never be guilty of not feeling.)
It's almost been a year since the break in. I'm still getting over things, which is embarassing because I was raised to be tough.
It still makes me angry to tears that so many people got away with things and I didn't. That guy who broke into our house hasn't been caught and probably never will be. Then there's my ex-boyfriend who I naively thought would be there, then all the people who said ridiculous and insensitive things to me (i.e. my ex-boyfriend's dad, the landlord and people at this Bible study I went to), friends who tease me for the window and door alarms in the new place, people who think I'm silly for being scared. So if I make my list, almost no one is innocent. But it was actually this unknown faceless man who caused all the problems. The worst part of it is that it's been a year and it feels like I'm in the same place I was back then. I hate that.
I suppose that's not true. I physically relocated. I've got the same old friends and some new ones. I still love bicycling but now I go rock climbing too. I still do yoga at the same Benson Yoga Studio. I've been working at Home & Away for more than three and a half years (!), plus I've been writing for the Reader for three years (dining editor for a year and a half). But I feel some change on the horizon. I still love tomatoes and make the same caprese salads: