The rest of the week passed in a very boring blur. It felt like the walls of our apartment were gradually creeping inward, squeezing me inside the tiny box, until I finally felt like I might explode. I did what I could to escape, including daily runs in Prospect Park wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses, but - without work - my days felt absolutely empty.
On the upside, I flew through my 'to be read' list, finishing at least a book every single day, but I was still craving human contact. Val did her best to keep me up on the gossip at work, and Anastasia dropped by with a green smoothie from the juice bar down the road one afternoon, but I was starting to feel like I was under house arrest.
After the "paparazzi incident," Peter insisted that I stay home from work until next Monday at the very least, which meant I was without a paycheck. I'd built up a fairly hefty savings in the five months I'd worked at Starbucks, constantly picking up extra shifts and refusing to spend too much on nights out, but I hated digging into it so I could hide out in our apartment.
Eventually, however, the madness had to end. With Andrew on the media circuit, rumors about us dating were gradually being replaced with other news stories, and he was quick to ask every media outlet to respect my privacy. Even his followers jumped on the bandwagon, defending him by saying that he deserved to have somewhat of a private life, which I hoped was a good sign. If they were backing off, maybe this whole mess would be over soon and my life could go back to some semblance of normal. I was coming to terms with the fact that normal might have to be something other than what I was used to, but anything was preferable to this. Andrew was coming back to New York on Saturday, and we already had plans to meet at his apartment that night for dinner.
All in all, I thought the worst was over.
On Thursday, unfortunately, the world decided it had other plans. I started receiving weird comments on all of my Instagram photos. I'd learned to keep push notifications turned off, but the swarm of comments had died down significantly - and turned overwhelmingly positive - so I was comfortable reading what people were saying about me. I'd just responded to another girl asking me where I bought the outfit I was wearing in one of my photos when I received a notification from @LincolnShepherdFan.
Clicking it, I scrolled down to the comment and frowned when I read it.
Slut.
I worked on developing a thick skin when it came to these comments, but this one caught me by surprise and hit me like a ton of bricks. I scoffed, navigating away from the comment and pretending it didn't bother me, but another notification rolled in - followed by another. One by one, a whole slew of comments poured into my notification feed, all from this one account. Whoever this person was, she was going through each and every of my Instagram photos and leaving a single word - dripping with venom - on each one of them.
Whore.
Ugly.
Bitch.
Spic.
Mexi-ho.
Fuming, I clicked on the last one and swiped to delete it. I went through each one, resisting the urge to reply to her comments as I deleted them, but more comments kept rolling in.
At this point, I shouldn't have done anything about it. I should've navigated to her profile and hit the handy dandy 'block' button like any sane human being, but I am apparently lacking in this thing called self-restraint so I clicked to see what new comments she'd posted on my photos. Honestly, I don't know why I did it. Curiosity? A masochistic desire to inflict pain upon myself? Complete and utter stupidity?
Whatever the reason, I was a fucking moron.
Go back to Mexico, you dirty skank.
Don't forget your poncho.
Fucking Mexican, stealing our men like you steal our jobs. #mexicant
You're so fucking stupid. Go kill yourself.
I hope you die.
One after another after another, I was glued to my phone's screen as I inhaled the toxic waste being spewed out of her fingertips. I felt nauseous, my stomach revolting at the amount of hatred this complete stranger was shoving at me, and tears pricked at the corner of my eyes. I'd dealt with bullying before, sure, but never like this. This girl was brutal, completely relentless, and it was like she knew exactly what to say to drive the daggers deeper into my skin.
My hands were shaking as I tried to navigate away from the last comment I read, clicking back to my home feed, and dropping my phone like it burning my skin. I didn't understand who this girl was or why the hell she thought it was okay to comment on these horrible things on my profile. I could feel my heart twisting inside my chest. Every word, every letter burrowing into my skin like a million shards of glass digging beneath the surface all at once. My heart was pounding in my chest as panic surged within me until finally I realized that I couldn't do this to myself.
Breathing heavily, I've used the palm of my hand to brush the tears off of my cheeks and as I picked up my phone from where it rested on the sofa. I stood straighter, hoping my posture might help in steeling my nerves against what awaited me within the app, and I unlocked my phone with a few quick swipes. The app's icon stared up at me, taunting me, as my finger hovered over it. I was scared - literally terrified - to click this tiny, insignificant thing that meant nothing....because it no longer meant nothing.
I exhaled, forcing myself to click the icon, and my eyes were immediately drawn to the notifications on the screen. I had over fifty new notifications in the last two minutes, most of them probably insults from whoever this girl was, but my eyes were drawn to the top right corner instead.
One new direct message.
Maybe it was intuition, but it felt like my heart stopped when I saw it. I exhaled shakily, forcing myself to suck in more oxygen, and tapped the screen to open my inbox. I could feel time dragging on, seconds stretching into hours. It was like in horror films, when you know something awful is about to happen because every single thing in your body is screaming at you.
Run, you idiot. Run away.
That's the thing, though. They never run. They never hide. They never make the smart move. We ridicule horror films because they show us people who, essentially, walk right into their own downfall. I mean, come on. Walk into the creepy basement and trap yourself with a murderer? No, thank you.
But if you think about it, maybe there's a reason why people run toward danger. Maybe we're pulled toward it, like a magnet, drawn inexplicably by this unseen force. Reason and logic are telling us to flee, but - impossibly - we ignore them. We push forward. We know nothing good will come from it, yet we're still insanely curious to see what's hiding behind the curtain.
It's not because we want to die. It's not because it's some cliche in a movie.
It's because that's what we do.
How many times do you hear a sound late at night that scares you? See a sliver of movement in the shadows out of the corner of your eye? Feel the brush of something across your skin?
Do you run away?
Maybe you should. Maybe we all should. But we don't.
We roll out of bed with the hardest object nearby, clutched tightly in our grip, and tiptoe down the stairs to double check the locks. We turn on all the lights, chasing away the shadows, to make sure that none of our ghosts can find us. We react on instinct, brushing a hand across the arm that felt 'something', when - in reality - we have no idea what's waiting for us.
It could be something.
It could be nothing.
We're all idiots. Just like I was an idiot. I should've blocked that girl from the very beginning, I shouldn't have read the rest of her comments, I shouldn't have let the things she said bury themselves in my brain, I shouldn't have clicked to open the 'Message request from @LincolnShepherdFan.' I shouldn't have. I shouldn't have.
I did.
Dear _________ (yeah, you),
Racism sucks and it's very real. It still exists in our society in a major way. If you think it doesn't, you're unfortunately very wrong. I've witnessed it first hand many times.
Cyberbullying (and regular bullying) is also very real.
Be better than these things. They're tough to read about and tough to digest because they are tough issues. We as human beings, as citizens of this planet, need to demonstrate love at every step of the way on these journeys we call life.
Don't normalize hatred. I'm sure you're hearing countless people talk about that right now, especially on social media. What does it mean?
Speak up + speak out. That's what it means. Say something when you see it happening. If it doesn't impact you? That's great. You're one of the lucky ones. That doesn't mean you don't have to do anything about it. Because you do. You should.
Even if you can't stop it, by speaking up, you are making it known that this is unacceptable. Racism. Bullying. Hatred. Fear-mongering.
These are unacceptable.
It's not just about "Oh, well, I'm a good person, so that's what matters." Do more. Don't stand by and let bad things happen to good people, even if you're not the one doing them.
Say no. Be a better human. Be a hero. (I know you are one.)
*steps off soapbox*
If you are dealing with any of these issues: racism, bullying - anything at all - my inbox is always open. I'm here for you. I love you all.
x