Picture this. You’ve just gotten out of the shower. You’re doing your thing. You know, that after shower routine that we all have, different as they may be. And you notice that something isn’t quite right. Something catches your eye.
A cell phone. Unusually placed, kind of tempting to snoop. It’s just right there for you. But you get distracted, by something else. Why is it placed like that? It’s so suspicious, but that’s just you. You’ve gotten used to the paranoia, but you check anyway, knowing you’re wrong.
And it turns out that you aren’t. That your paranoia has for once proven true. The phone’s camera has been turned on. It’s recording. It’s recording you.
The moment that your privacy has been invaded to such an unthinkable extent is very unfamiliar territory. It doesn’t matter what you were doing, what you were wearing. Or what you weren’t. There was trust, and just like that, there isn’t. There’s just a blank. But you know one thing. That you’re crying. It always comes down to crying. Because that’s it. How much worse, after everything, after this, could it get? The one person who was actually supposed to be good, the best person you knew, was not so much anymore. Not really.
So that one person you were supposed to be able to depend on was unstable. Certainly not the rock you’d always assumed. What’s left after that? Who even is there?
I’m glad to say, and finally realize, after far too long, that I always have my parents.