I can’t wait until the day I meet you. The day I kill you is a day that truly cannot come fast enough. Your sneaky. You know about the special knife I picked out. The knife that will be stuck through your chest. The special knife that will continue to go in and out of your body until your eyes roll into the back of your head and the pain is far to extreme for your body to handle. You’ve been watching for longer then I’ve known but, I know now; and I’m pissed.

The man I picture you to be is tall but, skinny. A bearded, wrinkly face with evil eyes. Eyes that like to watch and observe the innocence of children slowly become fear, hate, and anger. I know nothing about your personality but, I know a lot about your brain. You’re clever, sneaky, sinful, gross, and ill. I know where your “room” is. I know how you get in and out. You’re lucky we have that special room in the basement. The little door that leads to the crawl space hidden in the laundry room. You put duct tape around the sides to make it look like no one could easily get into that room. Duct tape? Really? How dumb do you think I am? You sneak in and out through the window of the backyard at night, knowing there’s no alarm on that window. It’s perfect. It goes right into the crawl space and you’ve put enough padding into the room so, we can’t hear you gently and quietly come in.

I moved my room down to the basement not even thinking of you. I made it much easier for you without even trying. I just wanted a bigger room. Your fascinated, aren’t you? Are you trying to figure me out? I’m trying to figure me out too. It seems to change every day.  1 day I can be a sweet girl, then I could be mean, then popular, then a loser, then lesbian, then depressed, then loving the world, to absolutely hating it, to so much more. So, please mister ill man, if you’ve figured me out, let me know.

I used to fear you. I used shake coming down the steps to the basement, then run right back up. It wasn’t until the day I found that knife. The knife that made me feel powerful. The knife that couldn’t allow me to get hurt. The beautiful weapon that shielded me from the fear of the man downstairs. Even when I don’t have the knife, I have built enough anger within myself to take you down with my bare hands, if we ever met face to face and I don’t have my sword. I have realized that you are not here to kill me, or steal things, or even touch me. You’re just here to watch. Watch me undress with those lustful eyes. That’s the most common thing any man would be doing. I never really change in my room but, I know you’re smart enough to install cameras. Although I have not seen them, I can still feel them. The lenses recording every move I make, every emotion I show, every tear I shed, every word spoken, every breath released. I can feel your eyes watching me while I sit and watch TV in my room, hoping I will do something interesting to look at.

Do you fear me? Knowing now I have no true fear of you. Considering you do watch everything you have seen what’s been going on lately. The nights I cry myself to sleep. The sleepless nights of me staring at a wall for hours lost in my thoughts. The blood dripping down my wrists. The sound of me throwing chairs and anything in sight at the walls, not giving a care in the world what I break. The screaming and physical fights my mom and I have been in. The ex-boyfriend constantly taking advantage of me and breaking my heart daily. I’m assuming you’ve realized I’m not afraid to die. It seems you are though. I have screamed for you to come out when I’m home alone. I’ve banged on the door and walls. Threatening you with everything. You didn’t move once.

So, what is it exactly you plan from this? Is your goal to make me feel uncomfortable? Make me never truly feel alone? Or are you lustfully watching me? Observing my body? Do you just need a place to stay? Are you eventually going to kill me? Are you someone I know? Are you just a sick man, knowing you have big plans to torture but, not sure how yet? Will you ever reveal yourself? Or will I have to be the one? The one to sleep with the knife under my bed and do it myself. Walk in there and open the door in the middle of the night ready to attack. Ready to end the feeling of never truly being alone.