The Death Of Me

About a year and a half ago, I would spend my nights trolling chatrooms and just generally talking about literature with a specific crowd.

Hold on. Before I get into that, keep this in mind. Ever since I was a little kid, in school or in my neighborhood, I'd somehow end up friends with the "trouble" kids. The ones that were violent, or had issues at home, or if we were older - the ones with mental health issues (bipolar?) and drug problems. Why? I felt bad that no one would ever care about them just because they were a little rough around the edges. I figured we all deserved a chance, we all deserve love. We all have something positive inside to offer the world, even when it's hard to see or identify by others.

Obviously, this has led to many a hurtful friendship/relationship with someone. It was almost like trying to tame wild beasts that would turn on you when all you had done was give them the love, attention and patience they'd never had.

So in that chatroom, there was the resident asshole. No one ever knew his name. He was a full blown bully to everyone. He'd go on public tirades calling people out and airing their personal info. Everyone hated him. Everyone had him on the permanent Ignore list. Everyone but me. I was always polite to him, he was rude to me. I never got into any public debates with him, you know, never feed the troll. So he was an asshat for about 4 months, until the day I received an IM from him, prompting me to cringe when no words had been spoken yet.

He gave me his name, and asked me mine. Was still a bit of a douche, but we actually had an awesome 4 hour conversation on books and movies. At the end he said: "Thanks for giving me a chance." I simply said: "Of course." Over the next few weeks he calmed down considerably in the chatroom. He was polite and even jovial with everyone. We spoke every day on IM and then texted whenever we went out or were away from the chatroom for a while. Always fun conversations, we'd talk a lot about Oreo cookies. The first few weeks were pretty awesome, and then one day I took a little long to answer his IM and he said: "So now your other friends are more important than I am?" Um. What? I calmly explained that my friend needed me at the moment but we'd catch up later. He flipped his handle and started calling my cell phone. I answered, and before I was done with 'Hello' his mouth was off running calling me a bitch, spick, and many other colorful adjectives. How dare I diss him? Blah blah. I ended up apologizing and in tears. Feeling lower than dirt for doing something that, even though it was MY way of being, it obviously upset and hurt him.

The next day he apologized and said he was sorry he hurt me. He'd never do it again. I went back to normal business. Forgive and forget. He started getting more and more possessive. Nothing will make me want to never deal with you again more than these two things: Jealousy and trying to make me change who I am, with you ruling my choices. It's not going to happen. I will close in on myself and self destruct at my inability to change who I am. The thing is, I shouldn't have to. I told him this. Hell broke loose.

When I finally blocked him off my Yahoo and Twitter. He lost his marbles. 46 missed calls in 2 minutes, filled with death threats and other threats. I would pay, he said. I did. He hacked into my accounts and published all my information on his blog and twitter/yahoo chatrooms. All of it. Names. Bank accounts. Passwords. Photos. He took everything and posted it everywhere he could. The voicemails kept getting more threatening, and it got to the point where he said he would kill my parents and me one weekend. The phone would beep, or the LED indicator would blink and my heart would already be racing in my throat and my stomach in knots. I'd be shaking as I read through the message...sometimes it was him and it would destroy me, others it was just an email...and I'd still be a mess.

He won. I changed my number, had to close all my bank accounts and close all my email/social network accounts. Twitter became private and I no longer lurk Yahoo. I went to the police station and filed a report, submitting all my text messages, screenshots of his blog and recordings of all the voicemail messages he left. He still uses my screename in Yahoo and harasses my friends to get my information. I am always nervous. Always expecting for him to appear.

Why would people get joy out of hurting me after I was there for them unconditionally? What do you get out of watching me self destruct, when all I ever had for you were good intentions?

Lately, I'm having that trapped feeling again. Like I can't do one thing or say one thing without it being blown out of proportion or people questioning my every move. I'm just Yari. Always have been, always will be. You can either accept me for who I am, and how I live my life or you can simply choose to write me off.

But if you're going to destroy me in the process, just to make yourself feel better, there's nothing I can do to stop you. I am not well. I can't stand another one of these again. This isn't healthy and it will not end well.

I have to do what I can to survive it and be a better person.