I lost my phone for 20 long hours.
20 hours. Almost a day. You can't imagine what sort of emotions I released. Panic. Trauma. Ultimate sadness and depression. Crazy thoughts. Blank thoughts. Regret. Uncontrollable crying over the lost precious phone and precious contact numbers. Loss of concentration at work. Lack of sleep. Rewinding, going over what happened and thinking through the entire scenario. Can't get over the unsure fact that the man took it. Thinking about the trouble I've caused to my mom, dad, and boyfriend, and to everyone else who knew my story.
What happened after the 20 darkest hours?
It was so embarrassing to think that the man beside me at the back of the FX taxi took it, then finding out soon enough that it only fell and got stuck beneath the seat.
It was pure luck that the phone just fell under the seat and was not snatched. It was pure luck that it was the FX's shift and was at the terminal when we checked at 4:30 AM. It was pure luck that even if I was seated at the back, I still recognized the vehicle. It was pure luck that the FX did not have it's interiors cleaned. It was pure luck that the phone was in silent mode because if ever some passenger heard our calls and texts, they could've taken it. It was pure luck that for 20 hours and for how many roundtrips and for how many passengers that went in and out the vehicle, my phone is still there. Waiting for me. Summoning me.
But... Is it just pure luck? Or strong faith?
Whatever the reason, it was a lesson learned. Very well learned, for that matter. It can be a stupid mistake, but it's not a joke at all.