Microstory 267: Perspective Forty-Two

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Perspective Forty-One

As long as this is a safe space, I’ll be honest. I got into yoga in order to “meet chicks”. Whenever it was portrayed in movies, the characters were played by pretty people in tight clothing, obviously suggesting that yoga “works”. But man oh man, I just love it. The first day was tough. Looking back, I shouldn’t have gone with hot yoga for my first day, like an idiot. But once I got into things and found my groove, it was like I had truly found my home. Sure, I did meet a few women here and there, and I didn’t exactly kick them out of bed. But on the whole, I was there to learn, and learn I did. Once I felt enlightened, I found work at the rec center as an instructor. After a few years of being a yogi, I was able save enough money to open up my own studio. It’s nice to have a place on the physical plane of existence to call my own. Here’s my problem. There’s this girl from one of my classes that has been stalking me, and she knows where I live because my apartment is right above the studio. You would think that she would attend as many classes of mine as she could handle, but she doesn’t. She seems to think that I won’t notice her harassment if I can’t actually see her all that often, or that she won’t get in trouble for it. I’m not sure if she attended the one class and fell in love right away, or if she knows me by some other means and the class was just to get close to me. It’s really weird, but because of how much distance she gives me, the authorities can do nothing about it. Stalking isn’t legal, per se, but it’s also incredibly hard to prove. And law enforcement is much better equipped to investigate and punish crimes that have already happened. Stopping a threat before it’s acted upon is kind of a gray area when it comes to the constitution. It’s like that one movie about people who can see future murders. I’m getting off on a tangent. My stalker. I confronted her about it a few weeks ago, but she completely denies it. I guess all those emails, gifts, and times when I feel like I’m being followed are just a coincidence, huh? She’s such a liar. Ya know what, that’s what I hate the most—okay, it’s all right. Find your bliss. Breathe. There is nothing in this world , or the next, that I can’t survive. That goes for you too. Namaste.

Perspective Forty-Three