Damned

I damned myself to hell for you.

I admitted my sins against you and the catholic church so you could get your annulment. Never mind we'd been divorced for years and I'd remarried. Never mind I'm not catholic. Never mind you weren't either. That call to tell me you'd come across the continent to peer in my apartment window, that was the last time we talked. Was it stalking or were you just needing to be sure you sent the document to the right Deborah?

This is the place where I talk about how when we broke up you moved as far away as you possibly could and still be in the same country. You found a girl who was my age, who looked like me, another Deborah. Literally, Deborah, with the same last name I had when I was married to you. Typically I move from that to how I agreed to damn myself to hell, and then back to the stalking. The story peters out that that point with hints of my trying to find out about your life through family and in the last few years, through internet. The story used to end there with me saying, I really don't know anything about his life now.

When I began blogging, I had a blog stalker. The person's screen name was name of our first cat. The person was only commenting on my blogs and was not posting. The tone of the comments from him and the questions he asked about my father - they pointed to a person who knew me and all the places I'd lived.

It was about that same time I wrote a post about us and I included your photo. And your name. And within a day I had an email from you. It was a request to take down the post. I did. And there lies the mystery. Was it really you who wrote me from the generic gmail address or was it my blog stalker?

Where you pretending to be someone else to peer in my windows again, or was someone peering in my windows pretending to be you?

Damned if I know.