soulscribblingshack

[soulscribblingshack]

Hounded.

I had my nose up a book, buried deep in the world of fantasy and mystery, when my mother called for me to go purchase something she urgently needed, one Sunday morning. Of course, I had very reluctantly, very petulantly torn my thirteen year old self from my book to run the errand. As always, my little brother, who was probably 7 then, hopped up to come with, (because we were a power team and we never went anywhere without each other). We hurried out, me in a hurry to get back to my book, and my brother just excited about getting to go out, even if for a short while.

It hadn't taken us too long, however, to notice how very deserted the street was because it was quite unusual. I had been dreading having to say hellos to my neighbours along the street and was quite unnerved that they weren't there for me to give my faux-enthusiastic greetings to, (relieving, but still...odd). And I remember thinking the emptiness was slightly discomforting.

But, it wasn't anything we had thought to worry about, apparently, because we carried on talking and laughing with each other, until, (yes, there is an until), this burly man in a green Kaftan, (that had obviously seen better days), popped out of nowhere. Well, he didn't pop out, obviously, no. He, actually, came out of a side street and started walking up just slightly ahead of us. My brother and I had quietened, immediately and given each other uncomfortable, questioning looks. We weren't sure why yet, but there was just something majorly off about this man. We tried to make it not too obvious, or at least, I did, that we were watching him, but we couldn't help it. At this point, you know, it was just us three walking the streets that morning. This strange man kept turning back to give us looks and his face, gosh, his face held so much rage and his eyes had been so red. He also hadn't been walking all that steadily, either. Clearly, he was high on some liquid luck. Lol.

I suppose at that point, I ought to have just insisted my brother and I go back home. Surely, mother would have understood that we were in some sort of danger. But, I grabbed hold of my brother's hand and instead forged on, completely ignoring my instincts screaming for us to turn back. Now, there came a time when we had to make a turn, into another side street, to get to the shop we were headed. At this point, the creep ahead of us had made the turn already, and was considerably far from us now, but we were a bit frightened about making the turn, because, what if he had been right there, just waiting to grab at us? Those looks he had been throwing at us had not seemed awfully friendly or accommodating in the least. So, we waited a while, dragged our feet and shuffled along, just to stretch the time a bit, in case he was waiting, you know, so he'd give up and go away. By the time we made the turn, our supposed predator was gone, (thank heavens). My brother and I laughed about it and went on our way, shaking off the unease. It didn't last long, however, because, suddenly, this green-clothed weirdo was popping his head from around the corner. Obviously, he had been waiting, rather impatiently for us and was checking, maybe for the last time to see if we were actually coming or not. I, literally, lost it. This time, I needed no warning. I grabbed my brother's hand, even tighter and started to run, back home, away from this lunatic, this strange man who had taken some weird sort of fancy to us. And you know what this man did? He gave chase.

I can only describe what I felt as intense, almost crippling fear, because suddenly, everything I had ever read in my mystery books, everything I had ever watched with my family on Investigation Diary, came rushing through my head. I have never been a runner, but this time, with my brother's hand firmly held in mine, I would have given Usain Bolt a run for his money.

We made it back home and hurriedly locked the gates, narrowly escaping this loony. But he did not give up, immediately, no. He stood outside our gates and was banging against them with so much rage. My brother and I were perplexed. Our mother ran out of the house, and we briefed her, best as we could on what had just happened. Of course, she had been worried, scared, frightened, terrified. We all were.

We worked out, later, that this man was probably just inebriated and was not some master planning kidnapper or anything. He had just had too much too drink, but that didn't stop me imagining all the ways he could have hurt us if he had caught up with us. I mean, the way he had hit against those gates? It showed a man who was extremely furious that he had missed his chance to do, god knows what.

We were not allowed to step out the house for a couple days, after that, until it was clear the freak was long gone.

Never again, since that day, however, did I ignore my instincts. They may be awfully wrong sometimes, but clearly, not all the time.

[soulscribblingshack]

Ghosted.

This title, probably already has given you a hint of what this little write up is about. Well, I have a question for you, though.

Have you ever been ghosted before?

And for those who may be wondering, no, I don't mean haunted by a ghost, I mean, like dropped. When no warning is given to you or anything and someone you've had a personal relationship with just dumps you...starts to pretend you don't exist, you know, like you're some "ghost they cannot see".

If you haven't been ghosted before, then you probably would not really be able to relate to any of this. But if you have been, then, ah, my friend, you do know the feelings of humiliation, indignation and utter confusion that come with being "ghosted".

It happened to me quite recently. I got ghosted by my ex. We were not, in fact, dating anymore, but, we were still "corresponding", (much to the dismay of my dear, dear girlfriends. sorry babes, and I love you). I was still harbouring feelings for the guy and was at that delicate stage where I thought that we could somehow still work it out as "friends", (the biggest lie I told myself). And while that in itself was not a terrible thing, it appeared he had other plans. So, picture it. We're talking as usual with all being perfectly normal and all of a sudden, he stops responding. Just. Like. That. No warning at all. No, "Oh, I'm sorry, but I don't want to talk to you anymore." Just a cold, cruel dropping. Sucks, doesn't it? At first, (and at first had taken quite a while, to be honest), I was so sad. So sad and in denial that he would do that to me. I mean, it was a habit of his, and he had told me several times about how he had done it to other people, but I had just always thought of it with a detached sense of understanding, because I had been deluding myself to believe it was always going to be just them and never me, because I was special to him and, um, you know that sort of thing. So, to have it done to me was humiliating and surprising. I had really not seen it coming.

Eventually, (which came at long last. thank heavens), I left the losers club and began to feel quite vexed, (because, you know, I'm a queen and no one gets to treat me like that, blah the blah). I went ahead to delete his number and all that, until he texted an unsuspecting me one night. He said he was sorry for ghosting, you know. He said he wanted to check on me and all that, and I, of course, pushed whatever bad feelings I had been holding on to, just so I would not come off as confrontational or anything. We had started a small conversation and I had thought all was well again, until he stopped responding, altogether, because, maybe he had decided half way that, "nah girl. I ain't up for this convo", after all. Whatever. I was beyond pissed this time, and swore that you know, never again will I reply his texts and blah blah, but the joke is on me now, because, um, he never texted back. (so sigh. it appears that all my carefully plotted pettiness has gone down the drain).

But, you see, it was probably well deserved, because, (asides from the very glaring fact that I should have been wiser and quietly left that boy alone when we broke up), I had actually done this very disgusting, humiliating act to someone else before. Yes, I want to act self-righteous and play the victim, while rolling around in self pity and all, but what goes around really does come around.

I had once ghosted someone just the same way I got ghosted. Nothing exactly happened. I had just decided I was disgusted with this person and did not want to talk to him anymore and I had done it. Even though he had tried, incessantly to reach me, even though, he had done absolutely nothing, I had just pretended like he did not exist at all.

And, that brings me to the whole point of my story. Ghosting shows you absolutely do not care about the other person's feelings. It is a cruel act that shows you are an unfeeling brute with zero regard for humanity, (or, maybe just the one person involved). It is hurtful, utterly and completely hurtful. It really would not cost you anything to just give a tiny explanation as to why you do not want to talk to a person you have been close to, anymore. Now, how they choose to take it is solely up to them. The point is, you have acted like a decent person, with morals, with, you know, an actual heart.

I, eventually resumed communicating with this mystery guy, (and I'm definitely not making this a guy-girl thing, only), but only after our mutual friends had intervened. I had not had any concrete reason for doing what I did, and explaining to him had just been extremely lame. But the one thing I would not forget is how bad he had felt. It had made me feel like such a shitty person, and there and then, I had vowed that I would never do that to another person. I vowed that I would be a decent person and point out why first before I altogether stopped speaking to someone I was close to, (if I ever have to, that is). Because every body has feelings and no one deserves to be treated that way, and you may not really comprehend how hurtful it is, until it happens to you, until you get ghosted.

To end this on a good note, however, me getting ghosted probably was the best thing for me at that point, because it finally made me see what my friends had been relentlessly warning me about, (bless their little hearts), and it helped me finally let go. It helped me see how unhealthy my preoccupation with this boy was. I had been holding on to him, still, even though we had broken up and that was clearly beyond pathetic. So, thank you, I guess, big guy. You have, howbeit unwittingly, taught me a lesson I may never have learned by myself.