I live everyday with in a constant paranoid state caused by the most irrational aspects of life. Before doing meaningless tasks I have to shake myself awake and force my mind into quickly doing an itinerary check of all the belongings on my person. For example, this happens most often when I leave the house. I stand at the front door and frisk myself like an under-sexed, perverted policeman to make sure I have everything I need; keys, phone, wallet, money, iPod and so on. I then proceed out of the door, only to check myself again once outside, before shutting the door behind me.
This effortless task is thousands times more panic-provoking if I’m getting off a bus or out a taxi, as I search every area of which I’ve been seated to discover if I’ve dropped or possibly left something behind. I’m just worried that if I leave something behind, that’s it, it’s gone, forever. I’m not sure if this is down to me viewing my belongings as all being sentimental, or if it’s just the fact that I’m fully aware I’m too poor to replace anything I loose.
But it doesn’t stop their, I have this internal fear that while walking over grates in the floor that one of my possessions will attempt to liberate itself from my pocket and make it’s way to a new life living in the sewer system of Derbyshire. To ensure this doesn’t happen I often put my hands in my pockets and grip my property. I used to take things out of my pocket and grasp them tightly when approaching grates, until I realised that I’m more likely to drop them, therefore rendering the whole ‘this’ll keep ‘em safe’ ideology useless and I felt a slight depression as I discovered that I’m not always right.
Alas, irrational paranoia still creeps into my life after these tasks. Such actions as walking through an automatic door make me slightly paranoid. ‘Will it open for me?’ Have you ever walked up to an automatic door and when it hasn’t opened for you, you begin to question your existence? That happens to me around four times a week. Stood at one of these doors, will thoughts running through my head such as; ‘Am I simply a figment of someone else’s imagination?’ or ‘Am I a ghost, no don’t be silly, ghost’s don’t exist … or do they? Have I convinced myself that ghosts aren’t real to inevitably fool myself out of realising I am in fact a ghost?’ Yea, it sounds like some South Korean Psychological Thriller film, but it could happen. Usually, this automatic door problem is solved when someone points out I have to press a button for the door to open. By that point the embarrassment of being such a massive idiot is drowned out by the delightful feeling of realising I am a real human.
Lifts pose yet more trouble for me. It’s not only the feeling of impending doom from the cables snapping and the lift itself becoming a metal casket for me and anyone else too lazy to take the stairs, but the simple task of getting on the lift is a terror. I never trust those doors, I think they may have a motive and they’re out to get me; closing as soon as I’m mid-way into the lift and bumping into me. It doesn’t hurt physically, but my pride takes a knock. Why is it me that these doors lash out on? There is also the fear of getting trapped in the lift, suspended in a metal cage like a human-sized pet budgie. In Hollywood films I’ve seen action heroes climb through panels in the top of lifts, or elevators as they would call them, then climb up the cables or whatever, but in the lifts I use I never seen any kind of panel to remove to make an escape. This fact deepens my fears.
I don’t know what causes these fears. Maybe reading the Daily Mail everyday for my 23 years on this earth has installed a fear in me so great, I no longer just fear anyone that’s a different colour, religion or creed, I actually fear everything. Or maybe I have finally smoked myself into a retarded state of constant paranoia … either way, I’m off to read my Daily Mail and smoke a phat blunt.
I would like to point out that I used no vulgar language or obscene words in this Blog, go me!
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