I hate what you did.

There is still so much anger and grief about what you did. Sometimes, I delude myself into believing that I've reached some level of acceptance and resolution, and then it slams into me again and knocks me down. I fucking hate all of you for spying on me, for fucking with something personal and private, and for completely fucking up my life when I turned around and acknowledged what you were doing and tried to stop it. I hate you. I hate what you are, what you represent. And I hate you especially - whichever one of you had a sliver of conscience, a bad feeling that you shouldn't be messing with a private citizen, shouldn't be hacking my phone and fucking with my personal relationships, and who didn't speak up and try to stop the rest of the team from doing it anyway. Fuck you.

New Rules

I walk in the evenings after I finish my work. I try to get things done before the sun sets so I have at least a few minutes to enjoy the light. Most evenings I walk towards the sea, through the dunes.
I can't run anymore. A bad leg injury two years ago has left me quite unable to do anything beyond a casual stride, and I always feel a little nostalgic when I see runners on the trail, a little jealous. But the walking is good, too.
Tonight I wasn't quite finished with work when I left. The world was getting dark as I made my way outside. I walked to the Dunes, careful to avoid people on the path, keeping the designated distance. I don't know if I have anything. I don't know if they do. But I don't want to be responsible for inadvertently killing anyone.
These are strange times, and the rules we all agreed to, the paradigms we all thought were so important, have broken apart.
I listened to the sea, pressed my feet into the wet sand. And I talked to god.
It feels wrong to ask god for any personal favors. Why on earth should I think my case is special? The idea feels obscene. There are so many people suffering right now, so many people mourning the loss of loved ones, so many first responders, doctors and nurses on the front lines. My prayers go to them.
I am lucky, and I know it.