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Paranoia Diary: Entry I
I was a child when it first began, and at the time of course I was unaware of it. Maybe because I was young and naive, unsure of what the darkness that haunted my mind until recently. I knew that I didn't like being around more than one or sometimes two people at a time. I would feel sick and would have to leave the room, I would still there not talking to anyone because I knew there was something wrong with me. Something wrong with me so that it made it near impossible for me to talk to all the other people that I have spoken before. I just feel like I'm being suffocated, or like the walls are closing in on me and I just don't know what to do to make them stop. I just become so broken and scared, so twitchy-- Like everyone around me is judging me, either because I'm not talking or because of the way I look or the way I act or something about me. That's what happen when I went over Her house, everything would be so scared. I wouldn't be able to breathe until I was out of the door again because I knew under that roof. Everything about me, from my dark clothes, to my colorful or colorless hair, to the heart I like to wear on my face. . . All of that was being judged and I just sat there pretending to believe that these people liked me because I made their daughter happy. Of course I now know that it wasn't just them, it was other people too. My ex-friend's parents thought that I was weird too, and for some reason everyone thinks that it's okay to tell me what everyone thinks of me.
Why would I want to know how much your family think I'm weird?
Is that suppose to make me feel better?
The fear of society will never be lifted and not only because people that pretended to know me, there were people-- A man that was married to my mother but was not my father, he made me feel like shit everyday of my life. Making me drag the razors blades across my wrists the first time, when I was fifteen years old. That was when I ended up in the hospital that first time, but my mom wouldn't let them keep me. And it's not the first time that I was almost kept in a hospital. By now however I know the tricks. When they ask "Are you feeling suicidal?", of course the correct answer to say is "No" even if the real answer is "Yes". You never however tell the truth, I didn't need to read a book by Emilie Autumn to know that much-- I found that out first hand before everything became so dark and distorted.
My mother believes that when I am with Andrew, I am okay to be in public. But it depends where and what we are doing? If for example we were at prom, I felt so safe there with friends and my love that I didn't even allow the crowd and my paranoia that I was being judged to bother me. But when I am stuck in a situation where I would have to speak to other people, like when I go out to dinner with my boyfriend and his family. I feel like once again the walls are caving in and that any moment I'm going to say something wrong and everyone is going to look at me with that look.
THAT LOOK.
The one that says "She is such a freak." And that is the look I fear, or I mess up on my words because I get all flustered and someone has to point out my mistake making me feel embarressed and broken. Make me feel like I'm a FREAK. Even though that I am completely aware of the fact that I am one. And that's the part that scares me.
It scares me that I cannot talk to strangers sometimes, but other times I can. It scares me when I can feel smart and clever one minute and the next I feel really stupid for trying to belong with people that are... NORMAL.
I know, I've for so long HATED that word. But I'm not normal-- At least normal people don't freak out because their mom says they're giving someone a ride to McDonald's. Normal people (if they want something) they ask for the thing they want. But people like me, people like me....
People like me thrash and scream when they here that someone they consider a stranger is getting in the car. People like me sit silent and still, not asking for anyone and denying anything for people that offering to give them something.
People like me are the broken, the hurt, the damaged goods. Something that has the potential to work but just sits in the corner gathering dust instead. That is what I am. I was born to be broken. And so that is what I am and so I shall always be.
Why would I want to know how much your family think I'm weird?
Is that suppose to make me feel better?
The fear of society will never be lifted and not only because people that pretended to know me, there were people-- A man that was married to my mother but was not my father, he made me feel like shit everyday of my life. Making me drag the razors blades across my wrists the first time, when I was fifteen years old. That was when I ended up in the hospital that first time, but my mom wouldn't let them keep me. And it's not the first time that I was almost kept in a hospital. By now however I know the tricks. When they ask "Are you feeling suicidal?", of course the correct answer to say is "No" even if the real answer is "Yes". You never however tell the truth, I didn't need to read a book by Emilie Autumn to know that much-- I found that out first hand before everything became so dark and distorted.
My mother believes that when I am with Andrew, I am okay to be in public. But it depends where and what we are doing? If for example we were at prom, I felt so safe there with friends and my love that I didn't even allow the crowd and my paranoia that I was being judged to bother me. But when I am stuck in a situation where I would have to speak to other people, like when I go out to dinner with my boyfriend and his family. I feel like once again the walls are caving in and that any moment I'm going to say something wrong and everyone is going to look at me with that look.
THAT LOOK.
The one that says "She is such a freak." And that is the look I fear, or I mess up on my words because I get all flustered and someone has to point out my mistake making me feel embarressed and broken. Make me feel like I'm a FREAK. Even though that I am completely aware of the fact that I am one. And that's the part that scares me.
It scares me that I cannot talk to strangers sometimes, but other times I can. It scares me when I can feel smart and clever one minute and the next I feel really stupid for trying to belong with people that are... NORMAL.
I know, I've for so long HATED that word. But I'm not normal-- At least normal people don't freak out because their mom says they're giving someone a ride to McDonald's. Normal people (if they want something) they ask for the thing they want. But people like me, people like me....
People like me thrash and scream when they here that someone they consider a stranger is getting in the car. People like me sit silent and still, not asking for anyone and denying anything for people that offering to give them something.
People like me are the broken, the hurt, the damaged goods. Something that has the potential to work but just sits in the corner gathering dust instead. That is what I am. I was born to be broken. And so that is what I am and so I shall always be.
Published 21st May 2012
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Anonymous
21st May 2012 1:48am
i feel sorry you or someone you know feels like that. what an awful feeling, cant imagine but sure sounds like a awful road to be on.
Anonymous
21st May 2012 1:51am
Dear Poet
Thank you for your writing
This is positive feedback
Keep up the good work
I look forward to reading you
Remember that with every submission
You increase your experience
Just a hello...on the Internet
From so far away
Who knows, we may meet
Face to face, one day
Peace
Kitty
Thank you for your writing
This is positive feedback
Keep up the good work
I look forward to reading you
Remember that with every submission
You increase your experience
Just a hello...on the Internet
From so far away
Who knows, we may meet
Face to face, one day
Peace
Kitty
