A Few Changes

It's been a little over a week, well, it's been about nine days since the incident and a lot has changed.

For starters, I'm thinking about leaving Australia early. My sister is in Georgia and my mother is in California and it would be nice to see the both of them for Christmas. I'm not completely sure about that yet so I'm not stocking up on boxes and looking at flight rates but I'm definitely considering it.

I'm really focused on finishing my thesis. I want this time in Australia to be worth something. I don't want to remember it as "that place where I was raped". I want it to be "that place where I proved how strong I am and got my Master's degree... sucka". "Sucka" was added for emphasis.

I'm feeling better. I'm not crying as often; I've almost fully gotten my appetite back (after eating like a bird for five days); and when I'm feeling good, I'm really feeling good. It's almost like the happy times when I'm enjoying a friend's company mean so much more because those times are pretty rare right now.

I started a new job. After the panic attack I mentioned in the video in my last post I knew it would be impossible for me to recover while still working at the same place. I had to find a new place. I told my manager that I couldn't work there any more and the very next day I was hired someplace else. No one at my new job knows about what happened and I don't plan on telling them. I just don't want to be known in that way, I know I'm a victim and that's something I need to learn to live with, but I've noticed that it changes the way a person is received. I don't want someone coming up behind me, rubbing my back and asking if I'm okay every five minutes.

I'm understanding that some days are just bad and that's that. If I wake up and feel melancholy, that's my right. I'm learning that if I take a walk and think through the pain, sometimes it goes away and I can be around people and have a good time. If it doesn't fade (and I don't have to work or have any other pressing engagements) then I'll mope for a little while and allow myself to feel that way. What's interesting is that a few weeks ago I wrote in Oh, Apathy that I was having trouble sussing out my emotions. I couldn't stir any feeling for anyone. Now it seems like all those tears were stored up for this reason. Strange, isn't it?

So I know the writing in this post is a bit different from my usual stuff so I'll get into writer-mode and tell you a little story.


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My Voyeur


Sometimes, most of the time, when I'd look up from the dishes I was washing or the vegetables I was dicing, I'd see him standing there. It used to give me a start, but I got accustomed to it, believe it or not. He stood at his bedroom window and watched me move about my kitchen and living room with such still interest, I wondered that I might have had him hypnotised. When I came home from work late and turned on my kitchen light, he'd turn on the light in his bedroom like he'd been waiting for me.

The idea of having a voyeur used to excite me, though I'm not sure why. Maybe it's the idea of being interesting to someone else, that watching me vacuum my rug might be a form of entertainment for someone. It's nice to be considered fascinating, especially when you feel your life is anything but. When I had a boyfriend, I'd make sure the kitchen window was open so the stranger watching me from the apartment opposite mine could see us kissing.

He never waved hello to me from his post at the window or said anything when I passed him on campus. I never told him I saw him standing there all those times, even during the times when it was obvious he was trying to hide his silouette behind the curtain. I never did anything about it except pull my shade down when I wanted to be alone.

Then one night, I looked up from the sink full of dishes and saw him pulling on a coat. He ran his hands through his hair a few times as he stood evaluating himself in a mirror. He didn't even look toward his window. I watched him adjust the collar of his shirt, spritz on a bit of cologne, shut off his light and leave his bedroom.

Since that night, he hasn't been around at all. When I come home from work and switch on my kitchen light, his bedroom remains dark. He shuts his curtains more often as if he doesn't want me looking in on him. It all seems a bit silly but I'm a little offended by it. I was the one being watched and now he's out and about while I'm at home entertaining no one. And where the hell is he going? How is it that the wierdo who used to stand at his window, sip tea and watch me clean out my fridge has a better night life than I do? I find myself sneeking into my kitchen just to peek out the window and see if his light is on. Does he have a girl in there? What's he doing right now? It looks like he might have gotten a life of his own and perhaps I've become the voyeur.