A Poet's Mourn

I am so thankful for my friends and family. They have been very supportive during my time in need. In the past few months I have been a victim of stalking. At first I did not want to admit it and I felt like I was blowing the situation out of proportion. I had dated this person prior to the stalking, but the person grew obsessive and wanted everything her own way. Yes, I said her- because I am pansexual. The person would follow me home and if she did come home with me, she wouldn't go; despite my pleas for her to leave. I grew frustrated and started lashing out at my parents; my parents at that point were about to take me to a mental clinic for me to seek psychiatric help. I grew even more furious and would often cry when I was home on weekends and after school. My depression elevated when I tried to commit suicide again- this time by asphyxiation. Of course I kept this information to my self and didn't even tell my closest friends about my fixation with my death.

I was suppose to make a documentary and I was planning to send it into Sundance. I was excited to make this production, but my relationship status hampered my ability to direct and write. The documentary was going to be about sex, politics, and influences based around teenagers. I thought it would be better because it would have been created by a teenager for teenagers. The fact that my ex-girlfriend had pushed her way into my life had henpecked my desire to make the movie. I had actually fallen into a depression and was stuck in it for months, prior to senior year beginning. I was too afraid to ask for help.

By the time November arrived, I had broken up with her. From her point of view, I guess she grew enraged and tormented by the fact that I did not love her any longer. I was sick of the stress and my own anguish that had settled upon my soul. I even considered switching my major countless times. I finally did in late winter. I was sick of not making my own choices. Before my finally break-up with her, I had broken up with her two other times. Now that I think about it, I guess I took her back because she kept pressing me. Soon, the real stalking began.

She would follow me when I went to lunch or other places. She would stalk my best friends. She even began stalking others. I would constantly have nightmares of her showing up at my house. She kept a dossier of all my friends and I. She would print out internet journals, photographs of me, my poetry and countless other things- she would then post them in her own journal. She called these the Archives. The Archives were a series of journals which she used to collect her information on us. It was almost composed like a serial killer's scrapbook. She made the rest of us look absolutely and totally crazy.

Then there was the rape. What was I suppose to do? Report it? Would there be any evidence. I remember that night clearly. We would have sex whenever she had a sleepover, consequently our friends would be over as well. Most of the time I would just go along with it. Truth be told, I wanted to sleep. My friends had told me they did not like this behavior. So, I respected them and stopped. But one night she grew frustrated and wanted to have sex. I turned away and tried to go to sleep. She did not like that. She would take my stuffed animal, that I would usually sleep with, and hit me over the head with it repetitively. I know, a stuffed animal, you must be joking? That doesn't hurt. Yet, it's the principle that I am trying to point out. I pretended to sleep and willed her to stop hitting me. She whimpered; when I say whimpered I mean like a wolf- she thinks that she is or so it seems. I don't know what happened next because it was all a blur. She had pulled me over and when I finally surrendered, she came on top and stuck her hand down my pants. I don't know if she was trying to arouse me or not, but minutes later she took my hand and pushed it down her panties. At that point I was just disgusted and went limp. You may ask how is that rape? But rape is about truly about control over your victim. Whether it was subconscious or conscious- she had raped me. My rape was not bloody or didn't take place in a dingy alleyway. It was in a house, on the carpeted floor of her television room.

In our sophomore year of high school, I wasn't dating her. I was dating a close friend of mine. I was totally smitten with him and cared so much. While we were all down in my basement with our friends, she had sneaked into my room and rummaged through my closet looking for who knew what. She had also had this quirk about her. She could never be her own person. I have an account on allpoetry.com for my writing; she had gotten one as well. She's not even a writer. She has no structure and basically copied me and the fact that I write. She has done this many of times. For example, The L Word- I had mentioned that to her and she went berserk over all the characters. She started naming our female friends after the characters. OZ- when I started watching OZ again and was talking about it non-stop with my friends, she had jumped on the bandwagon again. When I mentioned that I was pansexual- she started thinking that she was pansexual as well. When one of my best friends mentioned that she was bigendered (as well as pansexual), this twit came to the conclusion that she was bigendered as well.

What is my prognosis? She cannot think for herself at all. She lives in a fantasy world. She lacks the necessary skill to survive in this world at all. Yet the reason why I am telling the whole internet world is because I am tired of keeping my mouth shut and letting her scream to the whole internet on how much an ignorant know-it-all I am. She needs a news flash, because she is the one who makes racist comments and lacks the knowledge to talk politics. She even pretends to know everything about the world and thinks my friends and I are incompetent. She is the one who is ignorant. So, yes I am very frustrated about these events that took place the last four to five years of my life.

Stop domestic violence. Stop rape. Stop stalking.