The Fear of Harassment

by bdhesse

“This is rediculous,” I whisper. I’m sitting alone in this dark room. Like I cornered animal afraid that they are about to be attacked.
But it’s not a physical attack that I’m afraid of. I’ve been sitting in this room all day avoiding the thing that I really want to do: check my status.
I’ve watched movies, played games, I even did a few online chores that I had been avoiding. All so I can avoid them.
It started two days ago. I made a post. I just couldn’t keep it inside anymore, I had to tell everybody what I believed. But I didn’t go over how I had expected it to.
First I was asked how I could do such a thing. I didn’t understand. How could I do what? I hadn’t done anything bad, I just don’t believe what I used to.
Then I was told that there was something wrong with me, that I was being rebellious, that I was ignoring the truth.
I told them that I wasn’t. I just didn’t agree with them anymore.
That’s when the insults began to fly. They told me I was a terrible person. That I should be attacked, beaten, even killed. They told me that I would be sorry.
So now I’m hiding in my room. In the dark. I’m scared. I don’t know what to do.
These people won’t hurt me. Not really. Most don’t even know who I am. We’ve never actually met. But still…I don’t want to log back on. What will I find if I do?
But I can’t not log on either. I can’t let this control me. I can’t let it stop me.
I let my fingers hover above the enter key as I try to decide what to do.
“What the hell,” I say as I hit the button.

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