Below Average

I knew my week wasn't destined for greatness when I received a call at work from my best friend and neighbour asking if I was sitting down. In retrospect, perhaps one shouldn't always aim for – or desire – greatness. Average is alright and can occasionally be preferred for its safety and comfort. I would have settled for average this week. It would have saved me a lot of anger and upset (not to mention time and money) after having my personal property violated and vandalized in an act of theft.

It was the first time this happened to me which, I suppose, is above average (and possibly great) considering I live in the province with the highest crime rate in Canada and I live downtown which is typically the lore of rogues, heathens and other white-collar professionals. But I'm having a hard time. My sense of safety is gone. I've devolved back into unhealthy sleep patterns, my newfound paranoia causing me to wake up at the slightest noise. Hopefully with time I can pep-talk myself back into the trusting, empathetic fool that is my core personality. Although I know that is above-average in a world that doesn't appreciate it. 

The only highlight, if I could call it that, was finding an old receipt scattered amongst the debris. One that should have been long disposed of but for some reason remained hidden in plain view. It's from a brief weekend trip taken with someone that has enriched my life in ways I wasn't always open to. Garbage? At one time, yes. There really was no reason for keeping this. I have since accumulated a treasure of sentimental things to remind me of our shared history. But in this moment, under this circumstance, it presented a reminder that memories and your true sense of self can never really be taken from you. 

In my misfortune, it was an above average – even great – sign that all things must pass.