While stalkers are, in fact, stupid, I rather chided myself yesterday for being so reactionary and feeling I ought to move. If you haven’t guessed, my excitement of a few months ago at moving in with a friend subsided when I couldn’t get any traction on a meaningful follow-up discussion. My lease expires in 6 weeks, and I can scarcely get a reply to texts. I’m a planner. I need something.
So I think, “I’ll just stay where I’m at. I quite like it.” Then… knock, knock, knock.
I hid in my kitchen. They heard the TV; They knew I was home. I heard voices of a man and a woman. And I hid in the kitchen. Only when they moved on to the neighbor did I return to meandering about my little home, shaking.
I’m scared. I’m annoyed. I feel vulnerable, ashamed, and, well, like running away.
The man and woman left a flyer about a survey the University of Utah is conducting on recent urban development affecting my neighborhood. I felt like crying. I’m so stupid.
I hate stalkers. They make me feel stupid. I hate feeling stupid. Stalkers are stupid.