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abracanabraParanoia, paranoia.
Finished my 3rd day of working as TCF receptionist/bobblehead doll today. I had been away from people for quite some time before that, and I rather liked it. Paranoia has crept into my brain. When I went outside for lunch/breaks, I found myself becoming extremely paranoid. There were all those people. They could be malevolent. For all I know, they aren't really people. For all I know, I'm the only person in the world. I have no way of testing to make sure other people really exist. They might be demons in flesh-suits. Thoughts like this are the reason I sometimes think I might be paranoid. Saggy-fleshed women in jumpsuits? Do they really exist? Why?
And then, of course, I find myself stepping to the side before walking by alcoves, the better to get the first blow in the life-and-death struggle that would ensue if any murderers happened to be lurking there. I find myself thinking about possible weapons/strategies/places to strike depending on the threat.
I would not be that uncomfortable with this if I did it on purpose or if it was induced by something like an extremely psychotic movie, etc.
But my brain did this all on its lonesome.
I used to only have psychotic episodes like this when I was in a lighted room after dark. Think about it.
The last time I had something like this was when I hallucinated people's decapitated heads stuck onto the trees at Macalester. That was while I was in the process of flunking out of finals.
Maybe it was all the smiling I had to do at work. La-di-da, reading, editing, etc....damn, somebody coming, head up, smile slightly. If they are coming in to work, wish them good-morning.
The bobble-head receptionist.
Fuck that shit.
Finished my 3rd day of working as TCF receptionist/bobblehead doll today. I had been away from people for quite some time before that, and I rather liked it. Paranoia has crept into my brain. When I went outside for lunch/breaks, I found myself becoming extremely paranoid. There were all those people. They could be malevolent. For all I know, they aren't really people. For all I know, I'm the only person in the world. I have no way of testing to make sure other people really exist. They might be demons in flesh-suits. Thoughts like this are the reason I sometimes think I might be paranoid. Saggy-fleshed women in jumpsuits? Do they really exist? Why?
And then, of course, I find myself stepping to the side before walking by alcoves, the better to get the first blow in the life-and-death struggle that would ensue if any murderers happened to be lurking there. I find myself thinking about possible weapons/strategies/places to strike depending on the threat.
I would not be that uncomfortable with this if I did it on purpose or if it was induced by something like an extremely psychotic movie, etc.
But my brain did this all on its lonesome.
I used to only have psychotic episodes like this when I was in a lighted room after dark. Think about it.
The last time I had something like this was when I hallucinated people's decapitated heads stuck onto the trees at Macalester. That was while I was in the process of flunking out of finals.
Maybe it was all the smiling I had to do at work. La-di-da, reading, editing, etc....damn, somebody coming, head up, smile slightly. If they are coming in to work, wish them good-morning.
The bobble-head receptionist.
Fuck that shit.