I had a great weekend. My sister came for a visit, we won the football game and I managed to have a relaxing Sunday afternoon despite midterms week. However, my peace of mind disintegrated late Sunday night on my way to the Grotto. Walking past the bike rack outside of my dorm, I noticed that my brand new bike was gone.

Heartbroken and shoulders slumped, I creeped to the Grotto, hoping that in some way my bike would turn up. Maybe one of my friends just borrowed it, I reassured myself. Maybe Notre Dame Security saw it unlocked and brought it somewhere safe. Maybe I forgot that I had driven it somewhere. All sorts of rationalizations raced through my brain until I made it back to the bike rack.

Lying in the dirt, I found my cut lock lying near where my purple MountainTrek bike used to be. I picked it up and dusted it off, thinking about the person who cut the lock and carelessly threw it on the ground.

That person approached my bike with the planned intent to steal it. That person deliberately cut the lock and rode away with no remorse and no concern for the person whose day they were ruining. What did that person look like? What is that person thinking about right now? What does that person think about every time they sit on my purple bike?

I guess I never thought that things like this really happened on our campus. No one even locks their doors, so why so why would anyone go through the trouble of cutting a bike lock? While here, I feel so isolated from crime because it just doesn't really happen. But, now I know that crime does happen on this campus, and things far worse than bike theft can happen. There hadn't been a moment when I felt more violated, and for that I am grateful that it was just a stolen bike. But, my bike is gone and it isn't coming back — I am really mad!

It had been years since I had a bike, and I really liked the one I had. My grandma gave it to me this summer, and I was so excited to bring it to campus. It had the cutest Love Pack on the back of it, perfect for toting clothes to Saint Michael's dry cleaners and checks to the Notre Dame Federal Credit Union for deposit. My grandma even gave me a speedometer for it, and even though it never worked, it was fun to have.

To the person who stole my beloved bike: open up the Love Pack. In there you will find a map of Chicago area bike trails and a picture of my grandma.

• A Stolen bike, a shattered ideal