July 16, 2000 ~ Conversations and Stalkers

This past week has been a good week for good conversations. Some good emails (which I consider conversations), a long and interesting talk with Sam, one of the professors here, some conversations with co-workers, and several really good chats online, including a few excellent debates with Justin, a long-time internet friend. I'm really glad to see him after a long pause in communication. He's got a sharp wit and is an excellent debater. Plus, there are a lot of things we don't agree on, so it makes things interesting. Azrael is his Internet handle.

I knew an Azriel in person once. He went to my high school, but I didn't meet him until the day before graduation. During my senior year, I had an opinionated column in the school newspaper. A lot of people knew me from my writing, but I didn't know them. We were filing out after a day at an amusement park (senior last-day party), and I heard someone yell, "Melissa Ray!!" I turned to see a young man, with a long black trench coat, a spiked collar, long fingernails, and piercing eyes, pushing through the crowd toward me. Why did I focus on the long fingernails? I always find long fingernails on a guy intriguing, and his were quite nice. Morgan has long fingernails.

When he reached me, he said, "I have read your column all year long, but yet I have never introduced myself." This was his last chance. He told me my writing really meant something to him. His compliment meant something to me. He told me he wrote, and told me that he would like me to see some of his poetry.

Those last weeks of high school had been hard for me. I broke up with my fiancée at the beginning of finals week. I knew what we had had wasn't right. I knew it wouldn't work. But I knew that I would have a hard time showing my face to everyone whom I had assured that it would work out when they warned me that it wouldn't. It had taken me a long time and a lot of soul-searching to finally decide to do it. I had alienated a lot of my friends during the course of the relationship, so I didn't have many people left to lean on.

Graduation was a major time of change for me. I was ending a very serious long-term relationship. I was ending all that I knew of pre-college education. I was leaving behind what few friends I had for a whole new world. I was shedding all sorts of things, and going forth into a world of new adventures and promises, with several scholarships and awards trailing behind in my academic glory. I was leaving behind the pain of my parents' divorce, and so many other unmentionable pains. And my father, who I had been so very close to, didn't show up to the graduation ceremony. I wasn't sure how I felt about that, but I knew it hurt me deeper than I wanted to admit. That was a major event. It was something that any caring parent would never dare to miss, right? But my dad missed it. Did he care? I didn't want to doubt my hero, my father. That is the reason I am now trying to have no expectations about him attending my wedding. I don't want to get my hopes up. But my dad is a different story. Back to Azriel.

I was very touched by how he told me that my writing mattered to him. I started to get to know him a little, and had a few conversations with him. I didn't want a romantic relationship, however, and I made that abundantly clear to him. He didn't take the hint. He showed me a few brand new poems that were very obviously about me, with several sexual connotations. He started showing up at many of the places I went to. I began to feel his eyes (real or imagined?) on my back as I walked the city streets. Sometimes I had good reason. I would see him, out of the corner of my eye.

He wrote me letters. He sometimes intercepted me and would walk with me. I didn't give him my address, but he found out where my mother lived. It was a good thing I didn't live there.

He had given me a book of his poetry, some of it written in pencil on little scraps of paper, things he obviously didn't have an extra copy of. I didn't want to encourage contact with him, but I felt guilty because I had his book. I knew I should return it. I knew I had to return it.

Maybe I was paranoid. But I don't trust a man once he starts writing sexual poetry about me and stalking me. I know that would really seem sweet to some other women. Maybe I just didn't like it because I'm not a very sexual person. Maybe I was scared just because I had been violated before. These things make people like me wary and cautious. Maybe he was a great guy. Maybe it wouldn't have been bad to acknowledge him more. But, like I said, I was paranoid. I cut off all contact, and didn't see him again for a long time.

The summer slipped by, and my relationship with Morgan bloomed online and became real when he visited my real life. I went to school in the fall, and Azriel slipped to the back of my mind.

When I was cleaning out my room and packing for North Carolina, where I would finally be together for good with Morgan and would finally be going to a college which I loved... I came across it. Azriel's notebook of poetry. Guilt settled over my conscience. I only had a day left in Oregon, there was no way I could right that wrong and return that equivalent of stolen property.

I had been giving away all of the contents of my room, and my grandmother came over to collect some of my art supplies. I asked her to do me a favor and to mail the binder to Azriel for me (luckily I still had his address), and to write him a quick note, saying, "Hi. I'm Melissa's grandmother. She has left the state to go to a college, but she wanted you to have this back. She's sorry she kept it for so long."

It was a cowardly way to relieve my guilt. It was also a safe way. I still wonder whatever became of Azriel, but, due to the circumstances, I don't dare to find out.

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