the hopeless romantic is a stalker

I've found myself sleeping backwards, the ends of me resting where the starts of me use to. the bed is fully made, sheets tucked in the same place since the last load of laundry. I've convinced myself thinking completely still is the same as sleeping, and so every night the recorder play thoughts began to spin but I do not cave into the temptation of rest. this time its different tho, its going backwards and the window is completely open. because if he's going to watch me topple and fold on the made bed, I must be able to see him. if there is a creature in the closet, by my door, under the chair, I want them to be as scared as me. 

being watched is something I've grown used to. a poet once said something critical along the lines, "that if you are the type of girl people wanna look at let them look", I know the statement was a metaphor or some sarcastic joke were the punch line is abuse. but after years of being followed, chased, and observed I grew incredible tired of trying to hide my identity in the dark crevices of the world. I still continue to change my name out of habit. remember the cars that park at the grocery store and by my house. He's name was always changing to, never the same guy either. a part of me wished it was one, or at least someone I could prepare for. He came into my work a few times, followed me down the aisles and observed the tangles in the back of my hair and the cracking of knee caps. I liked to think it was tortuous to him, always having to be hiding in the same ways I was. the other versions of him were not so great, one was a women and her husband. they eyed me down in the art aisles and quietly watch me everyday, using there daughter as away of interactions, as the unknown child id never meet before in my life screamed my name up in down the aisles, jumping and grabbing on my limbs. I never learned what they wanted. 

                                                                

others threaten my life, called me from unknown numbers and watched me sleep as they sat on my window seal in which they deemed poetic. it wasn't strange, being a child of the internet, interactions like this began in 2014 and become a side affect of existing once I entered high school. I came to my mother once, in which the evidence of my fear meant nothing until it was too late, like how it always did. the psychics of the city claimed to be a default of my energy, as if the universe gifted me some sort of "asking for it" aura. so I prepare, for the next after this one, and I will not apologize for how I choice to deal with it. 

heyyyyoooo, first blog backkkk... a lot has benign going on and I decided after careful concatenation that I will not be disappearing with in myself... this blog post is based on a poems I wrote regarding the five men who stalked me and that wacko couple.. lol. I should have not been given kik or Tumblr as a little fuck. anyway--- little update.. I'm doing a little better, check out she-rants and I'm going to college soon, also I haven't downloaded grammerly on this computer yet so its probably incredible flawed.. but this was made for me and not you!!! hope your day is great and your breathe smells like dogsshit.

-katbird02