Trump Please: Draining the Swamp of Ghost Stalkers and Gangs

Late night vibes in a coffee shop: the air smells like espresso, rain, and Christmas magic. After a long day of working, running, and dodging puddles, I’m just here to unwind.

But nope—ding-ding—guess who crashes the scene? My personal ghost stalker
Homeless looking, definitely crazy, and lives in the apartments across from mine.

Oh, and did I mention he stalks me? Yes, 80–90% of the time I step out, he’s lurking. The guy operates like some low-budget ninja—popping up out of nowhere, making sure I see him, and then vanishing like he’s auditioning for a spy thriller.

Calling the police? Not so easy when Houdini here disappears before you can say, “Come quick!” One time, I even managed to show him to my family at a stoplight.
But when I’m alone? Oh, that’s when he gets bold.

Last night: I’m grabbing a late coffee at a near-empty store. The door opens dramatically, and guess who waltzes in, making direct eye contact? Yep. My stalker.
He bolts to the restroom.

I freeze. My first thought: “This is it—I’m taking his picture! And share with the police and the world” I even called my family to share the plan.

“Don’t do it,” they said. “DISENGAGE. He’s nuts, part of an organized crime family, and backed by gang networks. You’re one person, and they’re…a lot more.”

Still, I waited, watching as he came out, walked past me, lit a cigarette outside, and—of course—looked back to see if I was watching. It was like he was saying, “Catch me if you can.”

Here’s the thing: I’ve tried changing my schedule to throw him off. Morning runs? He’s there. Afternoon errands? Oh, hello again. Night coffee? Surprise! It’s like he’s got a sixth sense for my every move. Or his gang tracking my phone. Maybe this is a bugged house just maybe, lol! Lots of strange coincidences in a dirty neighborhood!

And this isn’t just about one guy.

It’s about a society that’s rotting with corruption, where organized crime thrives, police turn a blind eye, and people like me get left in the dust. It’s exhausting, infuriating, and terrifying all at once.

Part of me still thinks I should take his picture—make it public so everyone knows who he is. But the risk feels too big. So, for now, I disengage.

I step back, regroup, and try to stay sane in this madhouse.

But let me tell you: I’m counting down to January 20. Because when THE TRUMP steps in, maybe this chaos will finally get the cleanup it needs.

For now, though? It’s me versus the ghost stalker in this ridiculous, unwanted reality show monitored 24×7. And trust me, I’m determined to win.