one of my stalkers is dead
One of my stalkers is dead.
Perhaps the most disturbing part of that statement is I can use the words “one of” and not be exaggerating.
Most of my stalkers are not exactly healthy people. They are sort of deranged people who are not good about things like taking care of themselves. They are good at things like swinging baseball bats outside diners accosting strangers and demanding to know if these strangers know me.
[Hint: If someone swinging a baseball bat outside a diner asks if you know Max Adams the correct answer is no.]
It is not surprising one of my stalkers is dead.
Really the only unusual thing about this stalker’s death is, I know he is dead.
That does not happen too often. Hearing a stalker is dead. I guess authorities think notifying next of kin is more important. And the stalkees, well, we take our chances.
There are people effected by this death. People feeling grief. Loss. This person was someone’s son. A mother’s son. A father’s son. The people notified, the parents. They cared.
I? What I find myself feeling is anger.
I am still angry this person stole one of my dog’s toys.
0 Responses to one of my stalkers is dead
“They are good at things like swinging baseball bats outside diners accosting strangers and demanding to know if these strangers know me.” – that is scary as hell.
This is one of those events that saying congratulations for seems, well, tacky but somehow appropriate. I’m glad you are safer and sorry that someone’s son, brother, friend was such a mess that there is a reason to be glad he is dead.
I can totally relate to the situation. Mine was found in the closet of the room he rented from an elderly couple, by one or the other of them, three days after chowing down a whole bottle of some psychiatric med he was theoretically on. At one time he and I had been on better terms before he turned ugly (in an era when no one had ever imagined stalking laws), so we knew people in common and they alerted me. With the phone still in my hand, I did a little Snoopy dance around the room — the same room in which I’d once looked up from sewing to find his face goggling in the window. I’ve never felt any need to be apologetic. (And BTW, from what I knew of the guy’s family, they had plenty of responsibility for the way he turned out, and I can’t help wondering if grief or loss was even in their repertory.)
I hope you get to feeling just relief, eventually.
With really crazy people, it is hard to wish them ill they are broken and that is not their fault. But I do feel relief. I have one less reason to look over my shoulder.
Weird, sad, tragic… But I keep wondering: “one of”, what’s with you that attract stalkers? I’ve had some pretty obsessive ex girlfriends, but … stalkers. I hope you’ve never felt threatened in anyway, it’s creepy.
One time I did have to run I packed everything I owned on a truck and the dogs and I lived in a hotel for a month. That guy said he was going home for his gun and coming back and killing everyone in the building which was pretty dramatic. I believed him it was definitely time to be hard to find. But usually it is not that exciting.
“[Hint: If someone swinging a baseball bat outside a diner asks if you know Max Adams the correct answer is no.]”
I really could have used that information about an hour ago. Although: guy could have been asking about Mac Atom.
Oops. Sorry about that Valliant.
I’m glad you know. That’s really huge, that at least this time, you know.
Yeah. It is a bad thing another person’s death makes the world a safer place for me but it really does.
I’m ashamed to admit I feel relieved about this.
But that’s how I feel.
Let go of past anger. It’s not healthy for your future.