I'm Sorry for Stalking You

I’m sorry for stalking you.

I didn’t mean to do it. 

I swear. 


I only called 700 times because I wanted make sure there wasn’t like, idk, a problem with the internet?

That’s how the phone works right?

You know, like what if the whole internet was broken and thats why you didn’t get my calls?

Or like, maybe the robots were forwarding my messages to the wrong database on accident. It’s not the robot’s fault! So I kept calling.


And that time that I showed up at your house while you sleeping?

And you didn’t answer?

Well I only came over because you didn’t answer my 700 calls.

Like, what if you had died?!



Maybe I took things a little far when I slept outside your door like a dog.




Can’t we just like, move on?

I don’t get what the big deal is?

Like if the roles were reversed, and you had done the same thing to me, I only would have called the police…

to have you arrested…

So like. 


I’m sorry.


I don’t get what it is about us girls. We get away with things that are so totally criminal, because we aren’t as… scary? 

Question mark?

I’d have been scared if I were you. 

If I watched my boundaries ignored over and over again. 

Who knows what a girl like that could do?

I wouldn’t have answered me either.

But as I slept there, curled up outside your door, needing a blanket, waiting for an answer, every ounce of pride was drowned in desperation.

As I called you, over and over again, waiting for an answer, every ounce of misplaced hope was drowned in desperation.

But what was I so desperate for? 

Why would I turn to a man I had barely known, for all the answers?

It’s not your fault I turned the fantasy of you into scripture. Its not your fault I let my impulses take control. It’s not your fault I let an illness take control.

I needed help. Not your help. I needed help from a doctor. The professional kind.

Stories like these are what give mental illness a bad stigma.

So I’m sorry. 

Because a mental illness is an explanation, not an excuse. 


Struggling with Bipolar disorder makes it hard to make sense of it all.

Emotions feel so strong sometimes.

Thoughts of every shade can feel so real.

And sometimes things can get a little out of control. 

But that’s only how it is untreated.

Proper self-care, diet, nutrition, medication.

The brain balances out, and all that is not true, fades away into a good night’s rest.

Sleep, exercise, counseling, new friends, sobriety, healthy food, good stories, old friends. 

Things that are good, things that are real. 

Love. Forgiveness. Truth.

There is never an excuse, but sometimes there is an explanation. 



Thank you for not calling the police.



Rachel HelenComment