When I was 16/17, I had a deviantart account where I'd post poetry and drawings, all very sad and goth. Some guy who had gone to the same high school as I did (but had transferred out to another school after his parents got divorced) found my account. At first, he liked my poetry and art, would talk with me about it, recommended other poets, songs, whatever. It was just two sad kids with sad home lives sharing music and art that helped them get through the tough times. We also liked older Romantic (the actual movement, not "romance") poetry and would RP in chat as our favorite famous writers of the time--me Mary Shelley, him someone else. I don't remember who, but he was not RPing as Mary Shelley's husband or anything like that.
Slowly the RP, from his side, was beginning to get more romantic and somewhat sexual. I was too young to realize what he was doing and thought very little of myself in terms of attractiveness, since I grew up fat, hairy, and ugly. So, I didn't think anything of it, and I "let" him write whatever in the chat and would respond to it in Romantic-era language, thinking myself clever and that we were being silly and engaging in creative writing exercises. He never went into like, obvious porn territory, but it would be shit like: "ma'am, may I...help you undo the thousand tiny buttons on your bodice???" And it just never clicked with me that he was wanting to flirt/experiment with sex chats. I had other things to do, so I told him we should move to Facebook or whatever, since dA wasn't really "made" for chatting as a social media thing back then. He didn't want to move to Facebook, but he knew my Facebook account and was not "friends" with me on FB.
One day (and this is where, to this day as an old hag, I get confused as to why he did this), he got all emotional and noble and was like, "I've really enjoyed our time together and chatting with you and blah blah blah
but I just don't FEEL this way about you!!!" and I was like, what? Feel what way? I don't have a crush on you...is that...what you thought we were doing? Like flirting? No dude you're all good, I don't feel that way about you, either, and haven't ever.
That set him off.

)))))) For some reason.

)))))))) He got all flustered and pissy and stopped responding to me, threw back some accusatory bullshit like "you seemed to KNOW what WE were doing!!!" and I wrote it off as "that guy is weird and needs help lol." We didn't talk for some time and I thought that was the end of that.
Then he started mailing me things. To this day, I don't know how he got my home address. I was living in one major city in our home state, and he was living in another. He was mailing me things while living six hours away with his mom after his parents divorced. He mailed me things we referenced in past conversations--printed-out album covers of bands that I liked with the lyrics of my favorite songs handwritten on the back, collages of stuff I liked, art he made with trashy type shit about how upset he was. One of the drawings he'd done, he signed it in his own blood. I didn't know it then.
He started calling me on my cell phone number, nonstop texting me, and I hadn't given him my number. (I later found out he lied to and manipulated a very sweet girl from my HS/his former HS to give him my phone number.) He got my email and sent me a link to his Livejournal or Xanga where he was posting about "us" and had CARVED MY NAME INTO HIS FUCKING ARM in huge letters. He said he did it because all the letters of my name were made of straight lines and that "it was easy to do" and "felt good" because that way I was "always with [him]" even though "we" lived far apart. (My name is not Kim but think of someone carving KIM into their arm. My name is longer than that, and the carving took up the majority of his forearm.)
I told him to please stop but he wouldn't. I hadn't heard from him in a couple of days after I texted him again to PLEASE STOP. I thought it was over, finally. Nope! He stole his mom's truck, drove all the way down from his major city to where I lived, showed up one day after I got home from school. He repeatedly knocked on the front door and was begging, like actually begging "please, oh Godddd, pleaseeee let me see her, let me explain, pleasssseeee, I need to see her, plea-he-he-he-heeeeaaassseeeeeee" and sobbing, snot and tears running down a red face. I was so scared, but my parents were angry with me, asking me shit like "why is he here???? Why did you bring him to our house???" I didn't! They didn't care. He knew me so it must be my fault that he was there.
My parents called the police and when the police came, all the adults, my parents included, blamed me for "talking to strangers" (he wasn't, we were former schoolmates) and "not being clear of my intention" (I was clear and he steamrolled my intentions to make room for his own). One of the cops actually said to me "I wish stupid little girls wouldn't do shit like this. Don't you know he could have killed you or your parents? What were you thinking?" I just stood there, angry, embarrassed, and fucking bawling because no one was listening to me about what happened or what my stalker had done. I hadn't invited him here. I didn't want him here. He ignored me when I told him to stop and he imagined some sort of relationship between us. He had driven himself here.
A day before he got to my house, his mom had reported the truck as stolen and, because he was now 18, he got arrested for Grand Theft Auto and his dad (who still lived where I lived at that point) bailed him out and moved him to Michigan. A couple years later after that event, out of curiosity, I looked him up on Facebook to see what he was like, and he turned into a drugged-out hardcore guy. He had tried to get the carving of my name covered up with a big tattoo, but you could very clearly see the letters of my name on his forearm through the ink. He carved the letters of my name really, really deep. I remember one of the comments on the tattoo pic of his said something generic like, "Wow, what a big piece, it looks like it hurt!" And he responded: "Hurt in more ways than one."
After he got arrested and his dad moved him to Michigan, I thankfully never heard from him again. Now, as an adult, I think his parents or solely his dad must have gotten him on anti-psychotic medication or something similar. It doesn't matter, though. That was 15 years ago this fall, and to this day I still shiver at the fact that somewhere out there is (or was, idk if he's alive) a man who has my name carved into his arm.
(Sidenote, in my entire lifetime, every time I have interacted with cops out of necessity, male or female, white or black, every single one of them has been a lazy piece of shit who didn't want to do their job and "assigned" an ending to the ongoing dilemma. I once was moving out of an abusive situation, called the police because I had been illegally locked out of the apartment with all my stuff in it, and this lazy fucking nigger kept asking, while I'm moving out and having screams and insults and threats hurled at me: "Okay so looks like you got everything under control...? I'm gonna head out soon...?" What? Are you seriously asking me permission to leave this abusive situation? I called for help and you just think that they'll let me continue moving out once you're gone? You stupid fucking lame-brained nigger, are you blind? You're not even stopping them from threatening me or taking any note of what they're doing, you're just sitting on your ass on your phone, and you want to leave? Even a chimp in a uniform could sit there, so why can't you?)
Anyway, all of this is to say that it's best to have an online presence that isn't able to be tracked by people you know IRL. Anything and everything we say on here could get us into dangerous trouble if it fell into the wrong hands, and every woman knows that men's hands are always the wrong hands. Please consider making a new account and nuking the old one, fist_of_khonshu. You deserve safety and peace of mind.