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I was in the hospital on Friday. Wesley stayed with me, and when he went to get some dinner (didn't know how long I'd be there, and I'd already been there for 6 hours), he went home and discovered that his brother had taken a pack of cigarettes he had hidden.

Today, I went to find something in the bathroom, and found my pill case. That pill case had one klonopin in it when I last saw it; now it is empty. The pill case was in a Coach wristlet inside of my purse. Wesley would have asked me for it; he has before, and I'm fine with giving them to him when he needs them. However, when I went to the doctor last, he wrote me a scrip for five pills so that I'd have them if I needed them before I could get to a psych. Wesley has taken two of them, I've taken one. I now have none left. The only reason I can think of that they would be gone is Wesley's brother. I know he was in our room that day, and I know he took something out of our room.

Whoever took them needs to know this. They invaded my space by coming into my room in the first place (and on a day I was in the hospital, no less!) and went through my things; including my purse (WHO DOES THAT?!). It isn't about the medication that they took (although, I have no idea what I'll do if I have a panic attack between now and my psych appointment on the second). I know, it costs very little to get on the street. The problem is that whoever did this invaded my space and my privacy and the one place I thought I could leave my things and have them be safe. That is not okay. Apparently, I cannot have anything prescribed to me that can be used as a street drug, because unless I have it on my person at all times, it will disappear.

Fuck that.