The man with the gun

He's still there, right now. Lurking, somewhere, just out of sight. His oversized sniper rifle pointed in my direction, waiting to fire.

He's been there for years, years before I even learned to recognize his presence.

Almost two decades ago, when I first became aware of him, I immediately knew he'd been there all along. He was the source of my constant, lifelong unease. My non-stop internal panic in any and all situations which other people didn't seem to have any problems handling. He wasn't there for them. He was there for me.

He just… waits. Waits for me to say or do the wrong thing, occasionally adjusting his sights, or checking and re-chambering a round, barely audible. Making what should be everyday events into terrifying, life-or-death situations.

He's gotten more brazen over the years, bringing himself to my attention more often. Letting the light glint off of his sights so I can glimpse it out of the corner of my eye. Cocking and re-cocking at the edge of hearing. Demonstrating that I'm still the target.

Medicines, eating better, inspirational quotes, they don't really make anything better. Can't really. Changing my diet, running 2 miles a day, and losing 50 pounds didn't change anything. He was still there. "Stop focusing on the negative is"… well, really fucking hard to do when you feel the constant cross-hairs on you. When every situation feels like an overwhelming, life-and-death event, "think positive thoughts" is… not really a thing available to you.

I used to wonder why. Why point that thing at me? But after a certain point, you just have to stop wondering. Just try to live with the threat. But how? Well, I can stop caring if I live or die! And that kinda works. But it's… unsustainable. Another way is alcohol, and that's… well, that's a few hours I can ignore the threat, somewhat anyway. But I'll take what I can get.

Because, no matter what, he's still there. He'll always still be there. Waiting. Waiting for me to drop my guard. Waiting for me to fuck up at work. Waiting for me to fail at parenting. Waiting for me to mess up. Waiting for me to miss something important. Always waiting.

Just… waiting.