Paranoia
By Dana Short
There is a Plot, or a Conspiracy. Call I what you will, whatever words you would use to describe a group of people, acting in concert according to a plan, which is unknown to others. I know they exist, and I know their plan, at least as far as it applies to me. I have no idea why they have applied it to me, or what other goals they have in mind, but the one I am aware of is enough at this time.
The goal of their plan, as it applies to me, is they want me locked away. Either as a sane man in an asylum, or as a madman indeed, I do not believe they care, so long as I am removed. How can they accomplish this, you ask? Let me explain.
Have you ever noticed, that once a truly Paranoid person is located, that They really do come and take them away?
I have begun to wonder if perhaps They choose their targets first, then start to push them towards the edge of Paranoia, one step at a time, and once they get them to the point that they start to show their fears, use those same fears as an excuse to the world to take the action that They had planned all along.
What is it which would make Them choose one person over another? Is it something that person saw? something they did? Someone they know? Or is it just random chance?
Perhaps They are not the Government at all, perhaps They are just a bunch of sick and twisted individuals, who get their thrills out of taking perfectly normal people, and ruining their lives, by driving them slowly down the path of self destruction.
If They just wanted me dead, then I would be so already. I know that They have had plenty of opportunities, to kill me in many ways, lots of which could be made to look like an accident, if that were part of the plan. If there is even a plan.
I still can’t prove that they even exist, let alone that they have some sort of plan. Maybe They just make it up as they go along, pushing gently or firmly whenever they have chance.
I know there are a lot of them, as when they follow me, there is always more than one. That is how I have come to spot them. That and the fact that they will trail after me wherever I may go.
Sometimes there are women, but always there is at least one man.
They will even follow me into a public bathroom, look around, then duck back out.
No one normal steps into a bathroom, looks around, then leaves. If you go into a bathroom, it is usually to use at least the sink, if not the toilette. This is how I figured out that they were real, and not just a delusion, as I had started to convince myself, when I first began to feel them around me.
At first, I just had that crawling sensation, like I was being followed. Living in a large city, you learn to pick up on the signs. In a big city, you are prey, and the Criminals are predators. A basic survival instinct is to know when you have been chosen, so you can try and do something which will shake off the thug who has you targeted.
For several days, I would feel them behind me, always closing, yet never striking. That dry metallic taste of being ready to fight or flee always in the back of my mouth.
I even felt like there was someone in my house. Things would be moved. Never allot of things, and never by much, but one good example is my skillet. I always use the front left burner on a stove to cook. After I clean it, and before I put it back in the cabinet, I always set it back on the stove to dry. on the front left burner. But someone moved my dirty skillet to the front right side one day. It was still clean, just on the wrong side of the stove.
They would play games with my wallet and keys, moving them from my night stand to my dresser while I was asleep.
They would do other things as well. They would call, every time I would enter the house, the phone would start to ring, but as soon as I got in to the house, it would stop. The only time this would not happen, was if someone else was with me. That was part of what tipped me off. They want me to start showing the signs. That way they can come and get me.
Sometimes, in the middle of the night, or in the evening they would also call wen I was at home. No one would be on the other end of the line. All I could hear, was an echo of my own voice, as though bouncing back from the walls through a speaker phone in a large empty room. I can almost see them in there, sitting around, listening to me, but never responding.
Sometimes I wonder if they really want anything from me, other than my sanity. I am not wealthy, being far enough in debt that I will be working for the rest of my life to pay off the house and the car. I know of no secrets I possess in which they could be interested, as I have a basic sales job as a Furniture salesperson, and it can’t be someone who wants me out of the way so they can get my position, since I really have none. I can think of nothing I have that anybody would really want. Not enough to go to all this trouble. I think they do it just for fun. Fun for them, but not for me.
I will show them though. I will not give in and start to rant about how They are out there. But I know. They are out there right now. It is not Paranoia, just a reasonable deduction. Unless, of course that is what They want me to think. Sometimes I wonder. They have at least gotten me into playing the "I know They know I know" game. It is not a good game. There is no real way to win. Only to lose.
Sometimes, I think about jumping one of the followers. Bang them around a bit and make them tell me "why", but then fortunately reason prevails. I really believe They would like me to do that. It would give them an excuse. They could then come and take me away, and no one would want to even try and stop them. Everybody would know I was insane, for jumping some poor innocent fool and banging them around, demanding to know why they had been following me.
What should I do, however. I haven’t slept well in over a month, and it is starting to affect my job. It has already affected my relationships, as I broke up with a new girlfriend, because she thought I was acting "Creepy". Maybe she was one of Them, trying a bit harder to push me over the edge... I could hardly ever spot any tails when I was with her. It might make sense. I am not sure.
Of course, my very state of uncertainty is my only proof I am still sane. Perhaps. If I ever become totally convinced I am right, then I will know They have won, and it doesn’t matter any more. What can I do? Who could help me? I suppose I could try and document them, but to what end? If I ever tried to tell anyone, then They could use my admission as an excuse to come and get me.
I really hate this. Why won’t They leave me alone? Why? What can I do? I feel so alone, and yet, so enclosed. I know I will break soon, and there is nothing I can do about it. Nothing at all. I am just one, and They are many. I feel so lost. So hopeless. So confused. So helpless, and that is so frustrating.
What can I do? What would you do if you were me?