the obsessive stalker

 I tried to live my life like a background character low volume, minimal screen time, no dramatic plotlines. Not mysterious, not “off the grid,” just… not interested. Privacy, to me, is like wearing comfortable clothes: you don’t think about it much until someone tries to rip it off in public.

Enter: a stranger who apparently cast himself as my unauthorized biographer.

I don’t personally know him. I’ve never spoken to him (in real life). If we passed each other on the street, I’d probably apologize for existing and keep walking. But somehow, in his version of reality, I’m the main storyline. He’s out here collecting screenshots like Pokémon cards, except instead of rare creatures, it’s just… me. Existing. Occasionally breathing. Truly premium content.

And the highlight reel? Photos of me at 15. Because nothing says “I have a fulfilling life” like digging up a teenager’s old pictures and presenting them like breaking news. It’s like he time-traveled specifically to find the most awkward, least relevant version of me and thought, yes, this will devastate them. Sir, I was 15. I was already devastating myself back then what are you adding?

The whole thing feels less like harassment and more like a very one-sided fan club run by someone who deeply misunderstood the assignment. I didn’t sign up for attention, conflict, or whatever low-budget psychological thriller this is supposed to be. I wanted a quiet life, not a surprise cameo in someone else’s obsession arc.

What’s exhausting isn’t even the content it’s the absurdity. You’re minding your own business, and suddenly there’s a stranger narrating your life like he’s uncovering a conspiracy. Meanwhile, you’re just trying to exist, maybe drink some matcha, maybe not be turned into a hobby.

There’s a special kind of dark humor in realizing that while you’re actively avoiding attention, someone else is working overtime to manufacture it for you. Unpaid, uninvited, and deeply unqualified.

Honestly, if privacy is a boundary, this guy didn’t just cross it he set up a picnic on the other side and started live-streaming it.

And the weirdest part? I still don’t know him. Which somehow makes him the most dedicated stranger I’ve ever accidentally acquired.

The part that really gets me is this: I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy. Not even close. Because it’s not just annoying it’s the kind of thing that crawls under your skin and stays there, like you’ve been turned into someone else’s hobby without your consent.

And then I found out he has a daughter.

Which honestly made everything feel even more surreal. Because you look at that and think how do you raise a whole human being and still end up spending your time obsessing over a stranger online? How do you not see what this feels like from the other side? You’d think having a kid would give you at least a basic understanding of boundaries, of safety, of not turning someone else’s life into content.

I genuinely hope she never has to deal with anything like this. Not because of him, not because of anyone. No one should have to find out that a stranger has been collecting pieces of their life like souvenirs.

Meanwhile, I’m still over here doing what I always planned: minding my business, avoiding drama, trying to live quietly. Except now there’s this weird footnote in my life where some guy decided I was his personal documentary project.

I didn’t ask for attention. I didn’t start anything. I’m not interested in whatever imaginary storyline he’s built.

i was so young then so i didn't realize it was a form of Harassment and  intimidation  Posting my images, he picked the one where i was specifically underaged for some reason. very scary at that time but now i dont really care so much. i just hope his daughter never encounters a scary man like him.

I just wanted to exist peacefully.

Apparently, that was too niche.