“We was robbed.”

Losing is bad enough. Losing everything or having it taken from you is like going to bed in the evening and covering yourself with a comfortable duvet, dreaming of a good night’s sleep, only to wake up in the middle of the night to the harrowing sounds of a tornado that has snatched the four walls from around you and the house from underneath you. You wake up on a pile of rubble watching the remains of your home blown in the wind.

Should you breathe? Should you check if you’re ok? Should you run after what’s been blown up and try to save at least some precious items? Should you even allow yourself to cry? Or should you make a plan to pull it back together? First.

It’s a “real” shitty feeling, as they say back in New York.

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