I try so hard to be as optimistic as I possibly can. I don't know, for some reason, right when I feel as though I'm on the right track something happens that makes me want to jump in front of a bus and end it all!
Last night, my car was broken into. I don't have a nice car like some of the home owners on my block, so I never thought that this would happen to me, but it did. At the time that I found out, I got angry, but not enraged. I have come to realize that a person cannot have nice things in certain neighborhoods. It's a fact. A home can get broken into just for possessing nice things that the homeowners spent their hard earned money on. And of course it is the homeowners fault, no fault of the violator, because he or she should have known not to own such nice things in a shit neighborhood.
I called the police, but what can they do? They're only the police. No one came for over an hour and no one came to collect evidence. I'm sure there was plenty of it since the violator broke my back window, climbed through it, crawled over broken glass, sat in my front seat, ripped off the steering panel, broke the handle for my windshield wipers, and tried to hot wire my car. Evidence everywhere. Do you know what the officers told me when I asked them were they going to dust for finger prints. "Miss they won't even come out for something like this. You can have all the evidence in the world and no one would come out just for a car that got broken into." Oh okay. I just sat there frustrated. Why wouldn't whoever come out to dust for fingerprints? Then it dawned on me, they don't want to come out to dust for fingerprints. They're waiting for a big crime like a murder or a huge bank robbery to dust for fingerprints. My little car doesn't matter. It's only a car. I can survive without it. Get over it lady, move on.
I seriously can't believe this happened to me, but I'm too frustrated with the lack of help that I'm receiving from the Chicago Police to even get irate. I really want to, but then I think about other things that calm me down, like the fact that I have to pay a $500 deductible to get my car fixed. $500 of which I do not have. $500 that will set me back even further and derail my hope of getting the fuck out of Chicago by March 2011.
But who was I kidding? How dare I hope to get out of this neighborhood? That would be something entirely too nice.