I have a stalker. A real, honest-to-goodness stalker. I know girls who have bragged about having stalkers. How is this a good thing, I wonder? If it goes any further, I've already reassured my roommate that I'm calling the police. He knows where I live. He left me flowers in my car, for fuck's sake. I feel all... weird and uncomfortable about it.
In other news, I'm moving back to Pennsylvania for the summer. I have a job at Krislund. Thank God - the news could not have come at a better time.
About Me
- Camelot
- I small, cute, and crazy. That's pretty much all there is to know. A current jack-of-all-trades, that's mainly what I do because I can't figure out what I want to settle on. (This is why there are so many actors in the world.) I'm addicted to coffee, bad television, and paying off my student loans before the interest starts to accrue.
2 comments:
Do you even know who the guy is? It might be hard for the police to do anything if they don't know who to look for.
I hope this works out. Stalkers are pretty creepy. (said he, rather redundantly.)
Yeah, I know exactly who he is. I don't know where he lives, but I do know him - which makes it creepier, I suppose.
I do, too. It's weird and uncomfortable and altogether awkward. But I think I have it well under control.
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