Disappointment

Nothing is so completely depressing, at least in this point in my life, as when my best friend and roommate asks me, "Where did that lid to my pan go to?"

And I'm like, "I have absolutely no idea, I do not recall there ever being a lid."

Ever since she left me to take care of her stuff and use them, I've been stressing about not losing her stuff and not breaking anything,  because I would have no idea how to tell her what happened. I know she'd want the truth, but I just hate that feeling.

I've tried to be really careful and not lose anything or hurt anything, but some things have slipped through the cracks with all my stressing out, and now that she's back and has been going through all her stuff, she finds things missing and she keeps asking me how it happened.

The honest answer is I have no idea. I wish I did, but I don't. If I could afford to, I'd replace everything I lost, but of course I'm a poor college student.

The silence in my bedroom is killing me, mostly because I can feel the disappointment filling the air and there's nothing I can do about.

I guess that's just one of those things in life though, one of those distasteful things you just wish didn't have to happen, but do anyway and there's no way of going back and fixing them. I'm just going to have to deal with it and get over it.

One thing I know for sure, I am never watching her stuff again, or anyone else's things, while they are gone. I am too forgetful to be trustworthy. I'd rather just buy my own dishes and never have to worry about someone else's things. Because at least if I'm the one watching my stuff, I never have to worry about the disappointment someone else feels with how careless I can get. If I lose something of mine, it's my fault and I can move on.

And I'll never have to worry about a pan lid going missing again. At least, not one that brings about an atmosphere of disappointment along with it.

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