An Open Letter to my Stalker.

Melissa Beene Ford/ Uncategorized

I really didn’t want this drama.

I really NEVER, in a million years, would have imagined my life would end up the stuff of a Lifetime Movie for Women. But here I am.

Just so you know, I tried to like you.

Until you told me you were in love with my boyfriend.

Until you told me things guaranteed (in your mind) to send me running from him.

Until you texted me at 4:30am, 2:30am and incessantly, every time you were struck with the whim to do so, at any and every hour of the day.

Until you called me names beginning with wh* and b* (and I’m pretty sure I didn’t deserve either).

Until you lied, to him and to me, about him.

I’ve asked you to leave me alone.

I asked you nicely, and then not-so-nicely.

He’s asked you nicely, and then not-so-nicely.

And still, within the past 48 hours, I’ve gotten three more emails from you.

And that was after the hateful name-calling ranting text on Friday and the whole firestorm of histrionic texts on Sunday.

Unprovoked, I might add.

And just so you know, if you contact me again, be it by email, text, IM, or in any other way, shape, or form,

I will happily make public all the emails, texts, and IMs that I’ve so carefully saved in the event that I need them.

Just so you know.

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