This is so easy to understand, yet so hard to explain. You all know exactly where I’m going. I know you do, or do I just project?
There it is again; the fear. I can’t even hope for the best anymore, because the anticipation of calamity overwhelms all optimism.
You think everything’s a conspiracy, Hippy.
It’s all in my mind. That’s the problem. It’s all in my mind. That…is the solution.
An unreturned phone call or text. A largely ignored blog. A misinterpreted look or word from a co-worker, friend, or family member. In reality, they’re innocuous, but in my malicious mind, they’re assassins.
What do I do about it? Confront every incident that delusion has turned into crisis? Take drugs? Isolate?
Channel. My mind is going to concoct these little tragedies. I will continue to give them power. My future has already been written on the parchment of despair a thousand times. And you know what? It never comes to pass.
But there I have them, an ever growing archive of senseless lament. An enormous cache of tales of woe that seem even more pathetic in the absence of materialization.
This will have a happy ending. Paranoia is my gift. Be skeptical, be worried, be wary. Expect the worst so you’re never disappointed. Set hope aside for dread.
THEN POCKET THAT SHIT AND GET ON WITH LIFE!
Yes, everything’s a conspiracy, because nothing is real. These vicious thoughts that ravage my view of the future; all conspiracies. They’re funny little stories I tell myself because I’m not making the most of the present. They’ll one day add lush detail to a great work of fiction.
I’m glad my mind can come up with such powerful lies. They compliment my intended creativity quite well. It’s the way I need my mind to operate. I fear stifling my anxious projection will exhaust the fuel that drives my artistic engine. It’s a compromise I’m not willing to take, so I live with my head, and in my head.
I think as long as I realize the futility of lending power to negative experiential appendices, they can guide me…but I can’t trust them…can’t let them take over…or else…
MMM & RJT help keep me in check. Thank you for indulging my prolific projectile projecting. I’ll try to help you clean it up!
So many know that the grand designs of my mind are rarely followed by truth and justice…that’s what books are for!
Now quit thinking poorly of me, I’m projecting a book!
2 thoughts on “Meta-Cat-Astrophic: The Power of Paranoia”
Just wondering if you remember the last time you cried?
I don’t, but I know I’ve wanted to many times but couldn’t. Just another part of me that’s broken.