#being stalked

[thespiralofmadness]

[evalynmanroe]

If I ever get kidnapped just know it was a black Subaru

[i-crush-on-fictional-men]

I see you

WHY?? WHERE?? ARE YOU IN THE WALLS, OR CEILING???

[maddipinkkitty]

The Mind of a Stalker

For those of you who may not know, I’ve had a stalker for a long time. Like, crazy long. Anyways, I’d like to talk about the psychology of stalking in adjacent to “you”. 

What I think You does really well is exhibit how far the excuses for Joe’s abusive behavior can go. Stalkers will do anything to rationalize their actions as good. 

For instance, one time I expressed how my Stalker’s actions were unfavorable. He then said I was being “grumpy”. This effectively rationalized my hatred as not being “Real” as the implications of grumpiness discredited my feelings, turning them into a passing, unrelated mood that didn’t reflect on his own actions being the root of it.

You see Joe do the same when Beck find his box, as he rationalizes it as her not thinking clearly or understanding-thereby placing the blame on her and not on himself.

To keep up those actions so long, Stalkers must bend over backward to see their actions as good or necessary. They will never take accountability as they don’t inherently see a problem with what they are doing. He must blame it on the girl, either by the explanation of playing “hard to get”, “secretly” loving him, or having the potential to love him, or not thinking clearly. Nothing is his fault.

This is seen when Joe criticizes everyone else for being weird or creepy, being blind to his own actions. This is why when Henderson calls him out, he is so deeply effected by it. He believes himself to be the Nice Guy, the deserving one. That belief fuels his stalking as he makes the choice of worthiness himself.

For Stalkers, any reaction can be the right one. Anything they do is the right thing.

[happystonedhippie]

guess it’s time to change my entire social media presence for my safety again 🤪

[writersbeware]

Being Stalked

There are some situations that give us chills. Being stalked is one of them. Imagine watching a movie in which the protagonist has a questionable person following him. The stalker jumps in and out of shadows, leaves clues and seems to be everywhere at once. The protagonist is so terrified that he cannot function normally. The police are trying to help, but they cannot be everywhere at all…

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[j-exclamationmark-l]

I'm so frustrated.

I thought my days of being stalked were over. I'm approaching the end of my 20s, I dress mostly in men's clothing nowadays, I'm confrontational and cruel and have erased any softness from my personality.

How many stalkers have I had now? There was the asshole in college who assaulted me, when everyone told me it was my fault for "playing hard to get." I should have reported him. My biggest regret in life is not reporting him to the police. I was in my own dorm, minding my own business. No matter what I was wearing, I wasn't asking for it because I never thought it would happen. Fuck everyone who told me I deserved it. Fuck everyone who told me not to go to the police.

There was that asshole's friend, the one who first stalked me on facebook. I'd block him and he'd create a new profile to harass me, telling me he was suicidal and he dropped out of college because of me (because I didn't ask him out? God knows he didn't even ask me). He told me his therapist thought I was a monster for shoving everyone away - not that it matters, he's human scum, but i pushed everyone away after i was assaulted by the first asshole. I had pages of accounts by him that I'd blocked.

Then there was the old man. I think I've talked about him here before. He was so fucking creepy. He moved into the apartment above mine, and no one was willing to help, not the police, not Leopalace, the company that owned the apartment.

I fell in love, once. I'm ace (possibly aro?), I've never had a proper family, and I'm rarely shown kindness, so it was hard for me to recognize. It took me a long time to figure out. Years. He was my best friend. He disappeared, almost two years ago now. I still dream of him. My subconscious just can't let him go.

I began asking around. Have you seen him, have you heard from him. My close group of friends (our close group of friends) had no idea where he went. He told me once we were his best friends - a huge relief, I didn't want my feelings of "best friend" to be one-sided. He always took such good care of me. But still, no one had heard from him. Our messages weren't even marked as "read."

So I became desperate. I know if he wants to be left alone, that's his business, but I dream about him all the time, and I worry. What if he needs us? I know I had a tendency to be cold, what if he mistook my coldness as genuinely not caring about him? I remember the time we got curry together, just the two of us, and they brought out our rice in heart shapes and I was so embarrassed that I began smashing it. It wasn't him. I didn't hate him. I'm just allergic to emotion.

So I rebooted facebook and began messaging anyone I could think of, just to see if he was still alive. I get that if this was someone I met yesterday, it's okay to ghost them, but not someone you've known for nearly eight years. I had no idea he was unhappy with us. I wanted to know why. I know he doesn't owe me closure but I crave it. I just wanted to know that he's still alive. If at all possible, I'd have liked to know what I did to upset him. But I know he doesn't owe me that.

It's like taking out a spirit board. I was so desperate for closure that I was willing to summon the devil (in this case, the devil being facebook).

What answered me was not anything I meant to summon. An acquaintance from high school, not even a friend, not anyone who knew my missing friend, not anyone I reached out to, not even someone on my official friends list on facebook.

I thought telling him I was in Japan would deter him. I'm sorry if this is sexist, but I know there's only one reason for someone like him to contact me. I experienced hell in America. I'm not prepared to move back there for this idiot. I only answered once every other day, never twice in the same day.

So he began calling me. I didn't know that was possible on the hellsite that is Facebook. He woke me up, he called me while I was at work.

Why? We weren't even friends!

I tried to feel out if he was depressed or needed help - even that, I know, is too much, because we're not friends and that's not my job. I'm sick of people telling me about their suicidal thoughts. I'm sick of having to be others' crutch to lean on. But he just kept asking mundane questions and making stupid remarks about the job that I've honestly grown to love (especially now that that bitch Kristie is gone).

Maybe he did need help. I did hear one source of confirmation from all the friends I consulted, that calling someone like me (a stranger in another country) isn't normal. I still can't get over the audacity he had.

So I had to burn my spirit board (delete my facebook for the final time). I just… I still can't get over it. In America, no one valued me. I was never considered pretty, just "Asian." I would have killed to know anyone considered me pretty back then. To my teachers, I didn't even have a name. Except for my Korean AP English teacher, everyone just called me "the Chinese kid." Only one teacher knew my name, and I messaged her last year to say thank you. No one even cares to know how I'm doing. They just take and take and take and chip away at my sanity.

Now I don't care about "pretty" or "not pretty." Even if people consider me attractive, it only leads to trouble. Even over New Year, I had issues with a friend who couldn't grasp that I'm just not interested in sex. Saying "it doesn't have to mean anything" doesn't even make it better, it makes it worse.

Maybe I'm being hypocritical, wanting to be cared about yet pushing everyone away. But this last contact, I don't even feel cared about. There's no way he actually cared about me, he never knew me. Waking me up with goddamn phone calls is unacceptable.

Maybe I'm being hypocritical, because I think about my friend who disappeared every goddamn day.

Went out drinking Thursday with friends. Finally had the guts to ask a mundane question about him, a question that doesn't change anything ("the last time you heard from him, which account was it from? The one with his name or the one he named after me?" "The one he named after you."), and immediately vomited afterward. I could still feel the acid in my throat Friday, burning my esophagus and my nose. I couldn't sing at all yesterday.

I went home and cried. Nothing new happened so it doesn't make a lot of sense.

Why - how can so many people harass me and try to contact me, yet the one I want is, for all intents and purposes, dead?

I mean, hes not dead.

I know where he is. I know that he is still alive. But somehow it's less painful to imagine him as dead.

I've had a headache all day today and skipped out on orchestra rehearsal. I've taken handfuls of ibuprofen but my headache won't go away. I've drunk cup after cup of tea (both caffeine and non-caffeine type), had lots of water, and it still won't go away. My vision is blurry and my head is pounding. I actually passed out at my desk earlier, in too much pain to even make it to my bed, which touches my desk.

Maybe I'm just sick.

[tumbler-tidbits]

@leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid sent in Sam x Stalker

Fun Fearsome Fact: Scoptophobia is the fear of being watched or stared at.