A week of gut churning anxiety. A week of silent depression. Sigh. It’s been a hard week. Why, you ask? Well, that’s quite simple. Twitch has disappeared. Throughout the week I’ve been keeping an eye out for him, hoping he’ll show. Make an appearance. Something. I normally feel his eyes on me before I even see him. Feel something. But, he’s just… gone. Which leaves me with the following thoughts racing through my head: Was the sex really that bad? So bad that your stalker dumped you? I know it was awkward, but it ended well…didn’t it? Being dropped by your stalker is pretty bad. I mean he watches you week-in, week-out for almost a year, and then you have sex and he’s like ‘wham, bam, thank you, ma’am. We no longer require your position as victim. Don’t call us; we’ll call you. It’s not you…it’s me. We’re just at different stages of our stalker/stalkee relationship. I need space.’ How pathetic are you? You’re actually ticked off that your stalker is no longer skulking around in the shadows.
