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Something isn’t right

December 29, 2013

Maybe I’m just paranoid.

Maybe it’s the medication making me paranoid.

Maybe I’m right, though, and people are looking at me differently, treating me differently.

I smashed about a dozen mugs the other night… I don’t remember if I talked about it. I don’t remember why I did it.

I also have a 4-inch gash down my arm. I remember doing it, sort of, remember wrapping a paper towel over it and taping it in place. I don’t remember why I did it.

I cried twice at the mall the other day.

I spent $2,000 on shit I don’t need.

I rearranged furniture in my dining room for the third time in a year.

I watched random documentaries. I feel incredible sadness for Chelsea Manning.

I want to join the local church just so I can deliberately sit next to my asshole neighbor and watch him get more and more uncomfortable each time.

I went to a party tonight where the host privately thanked me for coming out. “I know you aren’t leaving your house much,” she told me softly. Throughout the night, I struggled to make conversation. Eventually, I gave up.

People are walking on eggshells around me, it seems. Am I that close to a complete breakdown? How could I know?

I turned off my cell phone. “Someone in England haunting us,” a voice calls from inside my head. I picture a ghost ringing me up to tell me just that. Clearly, it is time I sleep.

I still love MTIA. I don’t believe that I have ever felt so alone.

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