I Think My Family Stole My Money

I looked into the place where I keep my money; nothing there.  I swear that I had money there before I left for Zurich, and now it's gone.

I don't think my father would take my money.  His demeanor after My Fucking Mother's meltdown is calm.  He would is he was his usual whiny, bratty, vindictive self, but he's not that way right now.  So it could be My Fucking Mother.  She holds a grudge, but right now I can see her coming into my room while no one knows it and look through my stuff.  I should put my money in a safe or something, but I don't, and so anyone who's snooping around probably could find it.

The other culprit has to be, gulp, my grandmother.  She's always hard-up for money, most notably my money.  (And oh, by the way, I need to put this down on the Internet so it's permanent: She owes me over a thousand dollars.  I want everybody to know that.)  She, more than my parents, know where my money is, even if it is in an easy place to look.  The downside is is that the door is kind of hard to pull open because there's so much shit in it.  My granny has a hard time opening jars, and my place is on the ground, so I can't quite forsee her being able to open the door.

So ... maybe I'm paranoid and I left no money in there at all.  I did put a lot of money in my checking account the couple weeks before I left for Switzerland.  And I'm expecting my money from My Fucking Mother, but she's being a cunt and not giving it to me right now.  But ... God, I swear there was money there when I left.  Maybe it slid down somewhere or something. ...

I'm losing my fucking mind.