Story Time! The First Stalker.

Okay, because I have a fascination with the macabre, it is always Halloween- at least inside of my head. I’ve been absent from WordPress for the past few days for this reason and the reason that Christmas is coming and I have shit to craft for gifts. Let me just say that Kitty isn’t worth this amount of detail and trouble, *sigh*.
Now, I grew up with three uncles- Mom’s brothers- and my Dad. Living with Dad was one of those things that would either make or break you. He was mischievous on an unheard of level and enjoyed frightening people. I once watched him climb down a cliff, chasing a rat snake just so he could climb back up with it and chase my great Aunt across the yard, screaming her head off.
His sisters tell the best stories.
As such, I have been considered…a little sick. I’ve been called worse, usually while laying on my side with a blue face gasping for air and clutching my sides. You may or may not have just nearly pissed yourself. It’s genetic, or so I tell everyone. Genetic…sadistic…do we have to mince words? I didn’t think so.
I am hard to scare. You know when you go through all that trouble to hide in the fridge and scare someone? I’m the someone that laughs in your face and tells you to bring your A-Game. Eat your wheaties, put on your big girl panties and spend weeks plotting it out. My brother, on the other hand, had to live with both of us. He is certifiably un-scareable at this point. It’s why we don’t hang out. He’s too much work.
I can be scared. But, most of the time, when I am it is very, very real shit. I have experienced some strange, paranormal shit in my life. One of my story times will be about the dead girl in my house. It still terrifies me, or the voice outside the door, the shadow man, all that good stuff. All of it happened.
You know that person in the group that hears the sound in the house and grabs the bat to see what it is? Yeah, that’s me- depending. I know when to gtfo and when to hold my ground. If Miabear is there, however, it’s her job to charge in. I follow. So help you if you hurt her- that’s me.
So, let’s rewind to years and years ago. I was hanging out god knows where and on facebook or myspace. I get this random friend request from this guy named Jamie. That’s his real name, fuck his privacy. We have a lot of friends in common, went to the same school, I recognize his name. I accept.
Big Fucking Mistake.
This guy starts talking to me like we are best friends- or were. I immediately feel terrible. I was the token lesbian in high school. I didn’t necessarily know everyone but they all knew me. I felt bad for not remembering him other than a name- not even his face. He just seemed so…sad, and lonely. I’m a sucker for that shit, so I chatted with him.
As time progressed, he began to reveal more and more things that he knew about me. I remembered all of these things (I’m one of those people) but never him being there. I call my ex who laughs and tells me he was never there, I’m not crazy. I can’t figure out how he knows all of this and take it as second hand tellings of events from a mutual close friend.
Then, the details go deeper. He begins revealing things that *only* I and the other person involved should know. I call Rainbow back, demand to know wtf she thinks she’s doing, revealing this shit. She swears she didn’t. Then, he tells me things only Proxy would know (closest friend at the time) and she would have never told anyone. Ever. To this day.
I’m getting concerned by now, fully aware something is wrong. Then, he confesses his love for me.
Nevermind that I’m a lesbian, we’re clearly meant to be. O.0
It got real in those next few days. He used to live across the street, he says. He used to watch my brother and I play outside from his window. We only lived there for six months. I never knew he lived there, never saw him, nothing. Neither did my brother.
Then, I remember. My journal. I wrote everything in those days. I remembered leaving it outside on the porch and going inside for a sandwich. When I came back it was gone. I convinced myself I’d misplaced it. It was never seen again. He had to have taken it.
Scarier part? That was in middle school. He’s five years older than me. I was in seventh grade, he was a Junior in High School. That’s where he got most of it. But, I didn’t come out or date Rainbow or anything else he knew until high school. I still don’t know how he knew. I’m 21 at the time and he’s been following me since seventh grade.
Let that sink in.
Jamie has since gone. Longer story short, I tried calling him out first. Didn’t work. I tried threatening him. Laugh all you want, I can be scary. Didn’t work. Finally, I convinced him that he was going to get me hurt if he didn’t go away one drunken night after a rant on psychology. I haven’t heard from him since but- knowing what I know now- I still keep an eye out for him.
*Jamie* scares the shit out of me.
PS: If I don’t know your ass, you’re not getting on my facebook. Bet.


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