Monday, April 6, 2015

!3th floor of the opposite building.

There is a man who lives on the 13th floor of the apartment building opposite mine. He spends his nights and Saturdays staring into my apartment. He makes me feel insecure in my own home. We've seen him touch himself watching me do housework. But I cannot be bothered anymore, it's been years since he started making me feel uncomfortable in my own home. 

He knows that we know he's looking into our tiny apartment, he stares and stares for hours looking at me, at us, doing mundane things like feed the cats, do our laundry or watch tv. He stands for hours on his balcony straining to get a glimpse of us (but mostly me, we've figured out he likes stalking me best) between the curtains. 

Since a couple years ago, I've taken to have the curtain drawn almost every time I am home. I am a paranoid person so I have got his schedule down. He spends everyday, except Saturday, at work. Or I assume he's off to work on weekdays. He usually starts his routine of standing at his balcony staring into our apartment sometime around 8 or 9 (I haven't paid enough attention to figure out the exact time he comes home) and he does this everyday. Except Saturday. On Saturdays, I assume he has the day off because right as I wake up in the morning and open the windows in my room, he would be there standing at his balcony staring right at where I stand. So I've learned not to stand near windows on Saturdays.

About a year (and a half maybe? or two?) ago he figured out that I know when he's home (then he was home all day on Wednesdays, now it's Saturdays) and he would wash his sheets and have them hanging on his balcony as a shield. He would sit behind the bed sheet (literally sometimes he brings out a chair onto the balcony) and wait until he sees me and stands up to stare. I think he enjoys making me uncomfortable since I am confident he knows that I know. 

God knows what he does behind the protection of those bed sheets. I can guess but I'd rather not think about it. 

I expect to be harassed when I am out on the streets because so many men are pigs and have absolutely no respect for women but in today's world, I get harassed by strangers even in my own home. I am so glad for dark coloured curtains providing me some peace inside my own home. 

Sometimes I fantasise about just standing on my balcony as he watches on. In my fantasy he just stares at me, daring me to look right in his eyes as he rapes me with his mind. Sometimes I imagine him touching himself as he watches me stand on my balcony. He would touch himself and I would let him look at me as I pet my cats or hang the laundry and I will steal glances his way to see how far along is his progress to completion. In my fantasy, this particular ones where he touches himself, I imagine climbing over the balcony railing of my apartment as he finishes himself off, waving to him and jumping off from the 12th floor. 

I smile thinking about how traumatised that will make him. I hope every time he gets an erection afterwards he thinks about my brain, splattered all over the pavement. I hope he thinks about my small gesture right before I jumped to my death, the wave that will haunt him forever. I hope he never finds pleasure in objectifying a woman's body and invading their privacy ever again. I hope every single time he deposits his seed he thinks of the girl who killed herself as he watches by. 

I don't choose to imagine these things, I really wish I don't think about him at all. But when I imagine his face as he witnesses my head cracking open on the ground as he spills all over the balcony, it cheers me up for a while. 

Of course I would never commit suicide for him, not for anyone really but it's just a nice touch to traumatise him for the rest of his miserable life doing what I was already going to do anyway. Let's call it an 'added bonus' to jumping off the 12th floor. 

As always, these are ideations. I am safe. I am always safe. I am in control, not always but I am in check of my sanity. There is no reason to worry. 

Giggling at the thought of actually doing something so dramatic, 

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