Handpainted wooden initials beware!

...for bored kleptomaniacs will steal you!

I'm really, really pissed.

The immaturity of college students sometimes astounds me. I shouldn't be surprised at this point, but somehow I still am.

This particular instance involves the personalized decorations that we dorm dwellers put on our doors. Oftentimes you'll see pictures, self photos, quotes and dry-erase boards, or the names of the roommates. My roommate and I decided last semester to get wooden letters from Walmart for our first initials. We painted them ourselves. Roomie's K had a creamy light orange base with cute blue hearts, and I had a blue B with green vines crawling up it. I placed them on the door myself, proud of our colorful individuality that made our door look more inviting and less bland.

We left them up during winter break. So did anyone else with decorations on their doors. It didn't cross our minds that something could happen.

When we returned on January 11th--the day before my birthday, my B was gone. Anger quickly flared up in me. "Somebody stole it!" I though childishly. It was that kind of paranoid illogical thought that springs to mind when something is missing. Like the remote, or a $5 bill. Eventually I figured the sticky tack holding my B up had dried out and the letter fell. The janitor had probably found it and could do nothing other than throw it out. Ok. I could accept that.

"But my letter didn't fall," Roomie reasoned.

True. I checked hers, and it was still snug to the wood of the door. No issues there.

I remembered how I'd testing the strength of the Sticky tack when I first put the initials on. I'd pulled mine off slightly and put it back. Maybe I'd weakened it. Ok, if it was my fault, I could get that.

Eventually I bought another B and repainted it like the first. Looking at B Number Two on my door, I could trick myself into believing that nothing had changed.

Yesterday (Sunday when I wrote this hurriedly in my notebook), my B was gone. It was clear that it was stolen. I left an angry yet somewhat humorous note (because I have an annoying habit of injecting humor into serious situations). I felt like someone had something against me, but the problem is, I don't have anyone here that dislikes me. So why then?

Then Roomie's K was stolen today (once again, this is late last night, when I was originally writing this). I left another note and marched down to the RA. She explained that another girl had her light garland strand around her door ripped down and was upset because, you know, this was hers. Same with me and my roomie's initials. They are now replaced with lined papers with my notes and 3-D drawings of the intials. Cold and colorless, R.I.P. is written on them.

People amaze me with their unending cruelty and unashamed way of hurting others' feelings. This is a big issue in that respect.

People suck. Sure they do. Although I try to be optimistic about the human race and it's possibility for good, little things like this don't help the argument.

Is this why Terminators will destroy the world?