User blog:Forestpaw13/Scared

I have this teacher. She's really cool, don't get me wrong. We're so close. Really close. As close as a student and a teacher could be...

And still, closer. Too close.

She's given me claustrophobia. I had no problem with people touching me before. And now, suddenly, I do. I don't like people too close, and I've never liked too many, but now it's really starting to stand out.

I don't really know what's going on. So I'll start from the beginning.

We met on a Monday. I remember it clearly, not because it was the first day of school or something, but because I got to meet my teachers before everyone else. Actually, it was still in seventh grade. My track friend had me help her carry something- a gift to all her former teachers. This included my own, and her teachers. Which are mine this year. I met everyone except her, and my friend seemed disappointed. She said that my teacher was really cool.  I took her word for it.  That night, when we had a chance to meet my teachers, they greeted me as if I was a friend. I was surprised that they remembered me, I thought I was insignificant, that I would base my relationship with them like every other student on my team.  My teacher and I connected instantly. We shared books and experiences, and our wish list for future reads. I was quickly attached to her. I respected her the most. Thank the Lord, I thought, that she was my homeroom. (Still is.)  The first day was the same as any other, except the teachers knew my name and I got a behind-the-scenes of the year. I still know what's coming up, but that isn't significant here.  Something that is significant, however, is something else.  She touched me the first time that day.  Don't get me wrong here. It wasn't sexual. I don't think she would ever do that.  It was a shake of the hand. A smile, a hand on the back, guiding me to my seat for the rundown. Quick, easy, I thought nothing of it.  At the end, she shook my hand again, and said that I was charming. I charm all my teachers. I still thought nothing of anything.  Now, 25 weeks of school have passed. Add that on to the days off, winter breaks, trackouts. It's about 40. I've known her for 40 weeks, 200 days or so.  And those 200 days are so, so, changing.  Within the first nine (a quarter, I should mention, a term) she had pulled me over and given me a rundown on Facebook. I hadn't been a member for five days.  So how did she find me? Was I a mutual friend for a split second? Did she search my name? Was she stalking other friends of mine? I will never know. She went over a printed list of groups I was in, passing over some, touching on others, and laughing at others.  I said nothing. I thought it was just a coincidence. <BR> I asked for help in the second quarter, on a project on the computer. I asked how to double space. She stood behind me and guided me through. <BR> With her hands on my shoulders. <BR> On the same day, she had learned about the fifth grade. The horrors that a movie brought to me. She asked me every aspect of my personal life. I knew she didn't mean anything wrong. She was just worried, because there was a unit on the topic. Thank the Lord that I didn't have to read the book. <BR> Now, the unit is well under way, and it is horrifying. That doesn't matter here, not yet. Nothing else has come up, just a comment about my fifth grade teacher. Nothing wrong. <BR> Comments on my height. I'm tall, she's tall. I'm almost as tall as her. <BR> Comments on my religion. I'm Catholic, she has confided in me that she is Protestant. She never means wrong, she wants to know the differences. <BR> She can ask her husband, can't she? I now know that he is Catholic, as well. <BR> She touches me every time she passes me. A little wave, a smile. To let me know, for some reason, that she's there, on my other side. <BR> The most recent is Google. God, I hate Google.<BR> She Googled her house. Er, asked me how. I guided her through. "Type in an address," I said. An address. <BR> She typed in hers. I was distinctly surprised. She said that this was in the neighborhood near my high school. Great. <BR> She went to street view. She cooed over her house, which had her outside. Coincidence. <BR> She then typed in my address. I didn't prompt her, give her a street number. I didn't tell her how to spell anything. This was from her memory. <BR> She went on street view and everything. <BR> Another time, at track, she stopped me and asked me, once again, all the aspects of my personal life. What I'm doing tomorrow. The amount of homework I have. <BR> Like a... friend?

I'm so scared.

What should I do?