Paranoia

I think I am getting paranoid. Sometimes I think I am doing things which are not really happening, a figment of my own imagination. That in the course of my doing things I really, in actual fact did nothing at all. I could have smiled at nothing. I could have gone through an entire conversation which had never happened at all, except in my mind. I could have gone through an elaborate process of a series of actions and done nothing at all. How does it feel to have to try to verify each single moment of your very existence? To doubt some things which normal people would never think of doubting?

And then I figured.

I was afraid that the paranoia would be true. I would be embarrassed, ashamed, pitied even. But then I reckon everyone sympathises with a madman. Some admire madmen even.

And then I get better.