Well. Then. I certainly hope you enjoy my belongings. I hope that you get lots of use out of my two pairs of goggles. I hope you use them at the same time, and see a big scary fish coming right at you. And my floatie. I hope people see you coming from miles away and that you don’t drown. And besides THE CAR KEYS, which are of ABSOLUTELY NO USE TO YOU AND MEAN A SHIT TON TO ME AND MY ENTIRE FAMILY, I hope you enjoy my ~75 rocks, which were, I’ll add, curated lovingly by me, and for the most part, smooth and beautiful. But there might also be a few sharp rocks in the bag, and I hope they cut off your nipple. Just the one.

But that wasn’t enough for you, was it? You took my shoes. My shoes, which is why I drove around barefoot and pantsless. (Ok, so the pantsless part was on me, because I didn’t put on pants to go to the beach, BECAUSE I DIDN’T THINK I WOULD BE WANDERING AROUND THE ENTIRE THING, ASKING RANDOM STRANGERS IF THEY’D SEEN MY BAG LIKE SOME KIND OF OBSESSIVE FREAK. So that’s on me.) Well, enjoy them. Both of them. Who the lonely FUCK would look at those paint-splattered, worn down, gungy, ancient flip flops and say, “You know what? I’ll grab those too”? You know what? You’re welcome to them. I think you’ll probably get about negative three years worth of wear out of them. You know, honestly, I can’t be mad. You did me quite the favor. Because I would have worn them for the rest of my days and they are actually quite unacceptable. BUT DON’T YOU DARE THINK THAT MAKES US EVEN.

And what kind of psychological trickery is that, even? If you left my crappy shoes, I would be like, “oh, I’m not going crazy–my bag is gone, and I was correct in thinking I put it here,” instead of thinking, “Did I put my stuff somewhere else and just distinctly remember putting it here because the mind is a fragile thing held together by electricity and mucus?” or “Am I actually losing my mind and I didn’t have a bag at the beach at all? I could very well be that absentminded” or “Was it the universe fucking with me? Did the universe send seagulls to pilfer my stuff?” I WILL NEVER EVER KNOW.

There was nothing in there for you. None of that stuff was yours. And yet, you decided, “Huh, maybe I’ll start open water swimming,” or “ooh, this bag’s really pretty,” or “I’m gonna take this home and not look inside until I get there and it’ll be like SURPRISE! and I love surprises!” None of that was yours. And none of it was even worth anything, because I took out my phone and wallet and left them in the car. Because sadly, YOU CAN’T EVEN TRUST HUMANS WITH YOUR MOST WORTHLESS STUFF. I have my valuables with me now, motherfuckers. Amy: 2, Soulless bag thief: 1.

Oh, and hey! Why don’t you strip my raggedy ass swimsuit off my body too while you’re at it? I mean, it’s not like I could possibly be using it. Who needs clothes? WHO NEEDS ANYTHING, AM I RIGHT??

Because IT’S THE FUCKING PRINCIPLE. IT IS NOT. YOURS. You violated me, dude. And it’s not like you violated me in a vacuum. You did it during the worst week in a loooong time. Dealing with a death. Car not starting in the rain. Car not starting in the garage. Car not starting in Mundelein. Family members having to be in Mundelein. Lots of triggering feelings associated with watching the new Sandler family movie. It took me right back to being 13. Maybe you don’t remember, so I will gently remind you: BEING 13 SUCKS BIG OL’ BUFFALO BALLS.

Bottom line is, please don’t steal things. I shouldn’t have to say this. We live in a community. Let’s fucking ACT LIKE IT and look out for each other.

Happy fucking New Year, you piece of shit.

Sincerely,

Amy