“I Learned to Be Afraid of the Street”
At the beginning, I wasn’t afraid. That’s what hurts the most to remember. I used to walk freely, trusting people, believing in that naïve idea that if you are kind, the world might be kind back. And him… he seemed to fit perfectly into that belief. He was gentle, attentive, the kind of person who makes you lower your guard without even noticing. We talked like friends. Or at least, that’s what I thought. I never saw the change coming. There was no clear signal, no exact moment when everything broke. It was something quieter… something slower… something far more dangerous. It started with small things. Messages at all hours. Constant questions. A need to know where I was, what I was doing, who I was with. At first, I ignored it. I thought it was just intensity, maybe he needed attention. But that feeling… that small discomfort growing in my chest… never left. It grew. Until one day, I understood it wasn’t friendship anymore. It was control. I tried to walk away the simplest way possibl...