Closer to the Breaking Point.

I was walking out of the city library in University Heights, talking on the phone to Lucy, when I noticed it.  

"You're not going to believe it, but I'm looking at my bike right now and somebody has stolen my front wheel."  I told her, trying not to freak out.  

"What?!"  Lucy yelled into my ear.  As I walked towards the bike rack, I could feel the anger building up inside.  Why would somebody steal my wheel?  

What's more, where the hell would I get the money to replace it?  This was the last thing that I needed.   Let's recap:  no job, no money, barely a place to live and now this.  I mean, how was I supposed to get around town now?  

"I need to get off the phone," I said to Lucy.  "Let's talk later." 

She could hear the frustration and anger in my voice.  I could feel my chest starting to tighten.   Lucy was going on about not wanting to get off the phone with me, but I could barely hear her.  I was still trying to figure out who would do such a thing.  My bike isn't flashy or super expensive; in fact, it's a mass produced bicycle.  And weren't there people around to see the whole thing happening?  The city library was next to a grocery store, not to mention, there's a bus stop in front of the building.  It was 3 o'clock in the afternoon and I'm sure--no, I'm positive there were people nearby. 

There was nothing left to do.  I didn't dare barge back into the library; though I was tempted to.  Instead, all I could do was unlock my bike and carry it home.  Fortunately, it was only 2 blocks.  Walking down the sidewalk of Park Boulevard, lugging my bike while trying not to let my bag fall off of my shoulder, I was so angry.  Maybe Lucy was right:  maybe it was time for me to give up this crusade that I was on--but going nowhere.  Maybe I should just leave everything behind and head back to Texas.  This was too much.  And I really didn't think I could handle anymore.   Thinking about that, combined with just being fed up with it all, all I could do was hurl my bike and its one wheel into the grass nearby.  I flung that bike two feet in front of me and watched as the front reflector on the handlebars cracked and broke.  

I was getting closer and closer to that breaking point.  

Fifteen minutes later, I was in front of our building and ready to explode.  The first person I saw was John.  

"Look at this!" I yelled, sitting the bike down to rest on the front forks which originally held the wheel in place.  "Some asshole stole my wheel!" 

I didn't want to run into him.  In fact, I didn't want to talk about my bike with him.  But I needed to do something.  Yell...scream...cry...ANYTHING.

There wasn't too much to say.  I stood in John's office, bag still on my shoulder and just thought about it all.  The tears started sliding down my face and all I could do was cry out, "Why me?" 

It wasn't until later on in the evening, after talking to Lucy again and finally pulling myself together did I decide to post my rant on Craigslist.  I don't know why I decided to do it there, but I was angry; hell, I still am.  But seeing my rant posted there did make me feel a little better.  Buying a new wheel for my bike will definitely set me back a few dollars.  And the small paycheck that I have coming soon will probably just barely be enough to cover it, setting me deeper and deeper in debt.  So I typed out my anger.  Even though there's a small chance that the thief will actually read my rant, it still felt good to type it out.  As with policy on Craigslist, the post will be deleted in a few days, but don't worry.  The screen capture, above is here to stay.  Click on it for a closer view.