LET THERE BE LIGHT, AND NOT A DROP OF ITS YOURS
Dear Future Me,
Two weeks ago today, we found out we had a stalker.
Not the kind people joke about on social media. Not the term people toss around to describe someone who likes a few too many Instagram posts. A real stalker.
Two weeks ago, we learned someone had been tracking our social media, driving by our house, monitoring who we interacted with. Somehow, they accessed our call logs and texts—trying to figure out who we were talking to, for how long, and how often.
Two weeks ago, I bought a new phone. A new number. Cameras for the house. I shut my blinds and closed the curtains.
And I’ve been sitting in the dark ever since—literally and emotionally.
I deleted most of my social media, leaving only a couple that I rarely touch. I’ve been hiding. From the world. From being perceived. From being seen.
Because there’s a difference between choosing to be visible and having that choice ripped away from you. We consent to being seen when we post a photo, when we go outside, when we speak up. But when someone invades your private space—your home, your bedroom, your digital life—that consent is stolen. That safety is shattered.
It’s a violation of peace. Of mind. Of self.
For two weeks, I lost all sense of time. If it weren’t for the clock on my phone, I wouldn’t have known what hour it was. I just existed in a dark void—staring into it, knowing that someone, somewhere, was watching pieces of me I never agreed to share.
They weren’t in my house, but their fingerprints were everywhere. My computer. My TV. My Xbox. My call logs. My Wi-Fi.
I changed it all. I got a new phone, modem, a new network, a new password. I locked every physical door—but how do you lock a digital one when you don’t even know where the cracks are?
Even after all that, I couldn’t open the curtains. Because the blackout ones didn’t just keep prying eyes out—they kept the light out too.
And that’s the cruel irony of fear: when you shut out the dark, you also shut out the light. When you hide to keep yourself safe, you lose the things that make life worth living. The warmth. The brightness. The beauty.
But today, I opened the curtains.
I don’t know if she’s still watching. I don’t know what she can still see. But I know what I can see—and I refuse to let her steal that from me too.
Today I choose light.
I choose life.
I choose not to shrink.
I choose to take up space.
I can’t control her actions. I can’t undo what she did. But I can control mine. I can reclaim me.
And I won’t live in darkness because of her.
I get to have light.
I deserve light.
And future me—if ever the darkness creeps back in—remember this moment. Remember today.
You chose the light. And that means you can choose it again.
From the me who drew the curtains and the line,
—Me
