No seriously; REALLY?!

Be forewarned; I'm not in a good bloody mood...

I have been violated to the furthest extent one can be violated (when rape is removed from the list).

My room is my sanctuary. It's where all my stuff is; where I can be me; where I can relax, and be alone; where I feel all my things are safe when I'm not even home. This makes sense, yes?

Well apparently, that's wrong.

The last two times I've been away from my house some son of a bitch decides my room's free game.

Last time, my laptop was on the WRONG side of the couch, on my choir binder, which was originally ON the couch, but had been moved to a "table" (for lack of a better fucking term). The cord that I plug my laptop into the wall with, was set aside so who ever the asshole who was in my room was, wouldn't step on it when they came in and out.
There was other stuff that was fucked up, that drove me up the wall; stuff on my desk moved, not in the right place, etc. Specifics, I can't remember for sure...

THIS time, my alarm clock was fucked up. It has a projector, that shows the time on the ceiling; it was at the comPLETE wrong fucking angle from pointing at the ceiling. That can ONLY mean that someone was going through my things. There's no reason at ALL to be anywhere near my alarm clock without going through my things. Shit on my desk was all over the place again. I mean really; try harder to make it unnoticeable. Like FUCK!

And I haven't gotten to the end of it yet. My bed - oh yeah, MY bed. The one I sleep in - had been pulled apart. Not like ripped apart, but the sheets, and pillows weren't how I left them. It was like someone was screwing around in my bed. Yeah, I said that. "Like SOMEone was SCREWING around in my BED!"
Tell me that doesn't make your stomach crawl. TELL ME and MEAN IT!

It makes me wonder, "Was that why my laptop and choir binder were moved before? Was someone getting their fuck on, on my couch?" And that process only continues, twisting my brain - quite easily - to, "Was my bed used last time?" Because I didn't change the sheets, which is gross. And Ashley stayed over this weekend, which is even MORE gross.

Needless to say, I've now put my sheets in the fucking wash.

The list of things I WON'T do to that prick, is much fucking smaller than what I will do.

SON OF A BITCH!!!