Want you guys to know that I care about what is said here, but I'll have to read it tomorrow. Not in a good place right now. The hour long after work meeting turned into four hours, people got rowdy. And we needed something to act as a 'talking stick' because my coworkers are so childish. Since we couldn't find anything, I got a literal stick, a walking stick I carved in the boyscouts. I've had it since I was... I don't know, 12. 18 years. Part of my childhood.
I... I guess it's my fault. I mean, I should have known, right? Should have known that, even if I told them how important it was to me, even if I talked about its significance more then once...
But... how was I supposed to anticipate... I mean it was a pretty thick, sturdy stick. How was I suppose to know they find a way to literally snap a piece of my childhood in half? I still don't know how, unless they did it on purpose.
I realize how stupid I sound. How stupid it sounds to get upset over a stick I had in my trunk. But it was a part of my childhood. A piece... one of the few good memories... that stupid little stick meant so much to me... and now it's in two pieces... and I'm crying... because they broke a piece of my childhood, and I can never get it back...