Stranger

I don’t know
who he is
he follows
stares at me
alone or
with his girlfriend
sitting next to him
we haven’t
exchanged
a single word

People notice
but they don’t say
a single word
it’s ‘not a crime’
and doesn’t matter
he’s presence affects
my mental health

I’ve had a man
with the same
blonde hair
blue eyes
follow me
for years
he left me
traumatized
after he
sexually abused me
threatened to kill me

He was someone I knew
personally
not a stranger
like this man is

I am forced to be silent
about this issue
among other things

To be continued

“You’re confused, you were abused”

I’m confused about what? What is going in my life? Not really because I’ve been aware of everything that is going on. Expect maybe, one thing. I don’t understand why someone wants me when I don’t want them. I’ve done everything in my power to get rid of them by blocking, deactivating, blocking, ignoring, explaining, deactivating, blocking, explaining, etc.

“You were abused.” By who? It wasn’t my father and it wasn’t my friend’s stepfather though I was in the room with her when she was molested by him at age five. He never touched me, the second I heard her crying and screaming I ran out of the house. She said it was every guy I’ve ever dated but how could she possibly know that? It’s not like I told her everything that was going on. It’s not like I acknowledged or understood anything that was going on. How could I? Everything was constantly my fault. I was fat, ugly, worthless, dumb, stupid, useless, etc. He wouldn’t say I was smart, beautiful, or pretty. He wouldn’t even tell me he loved me or kissed me yet he had no problem asking to see me when he wanted sex. I went somewhere else to fill that missing hole, to someone else that was also a piece of shit. A least this one piece of shit was honest to me. He told me from the beginning he only wanted to have sex with me. And so I did that, thinking maybe he’d change or I’d change. I’d magically grow-up one day and leave this all behind. It didn’t happen. I let him choke and slap me in bed and go behind my back to plan things I didn’t really want to do.

She thinks some miracle will happen, like I’ll meet someone and all of this trauma and difficulty will go away. Real life isn’t a movie, it doesn’t work that way but who cares what I have to say anyway?