Every move you make

It’s hard to fully explain my experience with ‘the stalker.’ It’s not that it is emotionally difficult, although for about two years after I left the college I had a recurring nightmare that I was in an empty mall being chased by a knife wielding ‘stalker’ and her roommate. Nothing even close to this happened in real life but there is something about finding out that you’re being watched that can be deeply unnerving. I’m getting ahead of myself. This is the difficulty – how to explain the subtle nuances that when added up form something not subtle at all, but rather something sad, and desperate.
It was 1996 - the year of ‘My name is Jesse V, I am 19 years old and this is not happening.” This little saying first sprang up during the summer (life #3) but it carried over nicely into the school year. I have already mentioned my roommates in a previous post, they have a part in this too, though a small one.
It is also worth mentioning the physical setting of the student residence since it bears heavily on what happens (and later provides a set up for a ‘three’s company’ type of misunderstanding). Each residence consisted of five floors with two apartments per floor – as such we shared the bottom level with another apartment of four girls. Perpendicular to our residence was another tower. My bedroom window had a charming view of the sidewalk and the many legs and feet that went in and out the door to the college – sometimes I felt like I was moving museum display. With my window at ground level and so close to the door I think it was almost impossible for people not to look in. My room also had this awful smell and every now and then I would do a tribal dance with this package of floral scents in an attempt to make my room smell better. If anyone happened to look in as they walked by I hoped they enjoyed the show. I could have closed my curtains but 1) I really enjoy sunlight 2) I had two little plants that enjoyed the sun even more than me 3) I was stubborn.
I had also resolved that year to work hard in my studies. (Something I did do but have never been able to exactly replicate since.) As such, I was often sitting at the desk that was by the window. I wanted to start the year off right - I read my textbooks, I took notes, and not long after classes began I started to feel like I was being watched. I’d look out the window but saw no feet (and no legs), a quick glance at the other student residence revealed no people in its windows. This carried on for almost all of September. I was starting to wonder if I was developing some sort of paranoia or if some latent mental disorder was starting to surface.
One evening a friend was over and, after sitting at my desk for a short time, had the same sensation. We had been friends since elementary school and I had told him about the feeling I couldn’t shake. He devised a plan. I’d sit like I normally did; he would crouch down and spring up as soon as I felt like someone was watching me. It worked. As he shot up, another head, two stories up in the tower perpendicular to mine, shot down. This was neither the beginning and most definitely not the end of my time being stalked. Little did I know that my stalker wasn’t working alone and that this incident only seemed to make her braver.

I guess this will be a three parter.
ps- the awful smell was in the room prior to my moving in, and in case anyone's curious, neither scented candles nor shaking a scented floral pouch while doing a tribal dance did much against it.