Hats off to Sara Maclachlan for putting herself in the shoes of her stalker!

A stalker, however besotted or devoted s/he may be is a transgressor of personal space. They carry a deep hollowness inside, which they seek to fill through the real or imagined presence of another person. They live in their heads, and are disconnected with the world outside.

But the other person is not a therapist, and not responsible for the situation. The object of affection has a right to lead his or her own life.

I wonder what would happen if the stalker manages closeness with the object of fantasy, and then discover that s/he is a totally different person.

There’s an old movie where a school girl who claims to be in love with a movie star, is taken around studios to understand the fake-ness of screen presence.

Another one is about a stalker who loses his mother early in life and fantasises about a girl already coupled with another guy. I remember the expression on his face when the girl says “Kill him”. It is the moment of realisation that the pursuit has been in vain.

Stalking reminds me of girls who had to quit or change college, because someone made their life miserable. Every girl has experienced someone following her around at some stage in life, but it’s scary when it reaches manic proportions.

A story plot comes to mind where objects of fantasy start seeing themselves as god for goddesses, and then …. Reality strikes.


5 thoughts on “Stalkers

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