Sometimes, as I kept my eyes locked on that camera, reeling off the latest string of burglaries, I tried to feel it, tried to imagine all the people seeing me, watching me. And on the other end of that camera, there were tens of thousands of people, but I never felt it from them. I present the Look East segment for BBC News almost every day – well, I used to. It still is.Ī strange thing is, it’s a feeling I should be used to. Did I recognize the man in the green overcoat from the bus this morning? Did that bike messenger loop around the road and pass me again? No. I started to scan the faces of everyone I passed, looking to see if I recognized them, if I’d seen them before anywhere. It’s not like I haven’t had stalkers before. I had this thought that if I kept feeling something was watching me, then it must be a person doing it. Does it hate me? Does it just want me to keep living in fear? I don’t know why this is happening to me.Īt first, I thought it was a person, some stalker who just kept hiding. I can feel its gaze burrowing into the back of my neck. I can’t see it either, but that doesn’t matter, because it can see me. I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, it’s been months now, and it’s still there. No idea what it wants from me, or if it ever had any plans beyond just staring from wherever it is hiding. There’s nowhere I can go, a place I can hide that it doesn’t keep looking at me. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London. Statement of Rosa Meyer, concerning a persistent feeling of being watched.
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