the thief

i have stolen a total of three things in my life. by default, this makes me a thief.

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dearest, today's entry shall be shorter than usual to make for some light reading. we have surpassed 6000 views of all time, and this here Caravan Girl is truly humbled by your generosity and continued readership! plans have been put in motion for more updates and specifically more tales of others, and polls have been cast whereby you may have noted your opinion on the content you are to receive- if you haven't answered the questionnaire then feel free to do so, it's still available for you. my lovely subscribers thankyouuu!! your support is absolutely massive to me.

upcoming posts are to include; the bucket list, the musicians, and the other woman. just some brief titles there to perhaps excite and pique your interest. anyway, on with the show.

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i have stolen a total of three things in my life. i wouldn't consider myself a thief at all- i was never raised to smuggle rogue items out of high-street shops, to "forget" i was wearing a friends piece of clothing, or even to pinch a gleaming apple from an understaffed food stall. perhaps it is a privilege that i have never had to think in a dishonest way- never needing to lie for apparel but instead being in the fortunate position of having the funds to buy. i make no judgements, i promise you that. stealing just rubs me wrong. with that said, i have done it thrice.

so here's the headlines:

1. The Fudge
2. The Tiara
3. The Paper

i will explain in chronological order because that's just good and proper isn't it?

The Fudge

at two years of age, a well-packaged and brick-like clotted cream fudge was completely irresistible. understandable. they found it in my sticky hands after walking miles back to the car. and then they trudged me back in the pram to return it immediately. 

The Tiara

at eighteen, the allure of a rhinestone plastered headpiece was just as strong as the childhood confectionary. my head shaven and my self-esteem at an all time low, i felt a surge of repugnance towards the party of fifty i happened to be serving that day as a waitress. it was a business party- the leading lady called us the "service" and apparently had never been taught basic manners. so when she misplaced her crappy crown after one too many prosecos, the clipboard i had commandeered earlier in the night just so happened to act as a makeshift ceiling atop her prized jewels. 

and at nineteen, the second i turned, i sat adorned- the image of plastic princess perfection, smug at my justice for the working class. a triumph for every bald headed loser like me. 

The Paper

at twenty. my last ever act of kleptomania before i throw in the still-tagged towel in favour of a moral marketplace, was not high-street obtained at all. not long ago, i stole a sheet of paper with a scoreboard on. the names at the top were ones i might've once considered friends but now i realise have only ever been passer-by's. not because i do not like them, they're all good people who i'm sure i could've certainly developed bonds with had our circles overlapped, but because we simply do not come across one another. 

the handwriting was loopy and feminine. girls and boys listed. game points acquired. 

such a small and simple artefact felt unbelievably weighty in my sweating palm; the ounces of joy that fed this sheet had fattened it's contents. i had stumbled upon a gem- this was proof that outside of my lenses, outside of my sphere, there was a world of love continuing. evidence of fulfilled existences and enlivened friendships. 

nowadays it's very easy to mistake love as possession. if i see a dress i love, i buy it. i want to have it for my own. i don't want to see somebody else wearing it, because that would mean that the love is shared and by nature to share something is to lose a part of it. perhaps not. perhaps dear reader, i did not have to be at that gathering of games to enjoy in it's spirit, or to feel the love. i felt it through them. and in that way, they have shared it to me.

i didn't take it per-say, but when it appeared on my desk i didn't attempt to return it to it's place of origin. and i do intend on returning the paper at some point soon, it still puts me at ill-ease to hold something so close that isn't mine. i'll find a way to sneak it back to them, and hope they do not mind my borrowing their treasure. 

i think, however, i may keep the tiara. if that's alright by you.

sincerely, the caravan girl.