(no subject)
I'm paranoid. I'm paranoid I'll lose everything in the blink of an eye. I'm paranoid no one thinks the same about me as I do about them. I'm paranoid everyone's talking about me. When I leave the room. When I get dropped off. When we're not hanging out. Call it my "weird insecurities," but it's there. That paranoia that I think everyone's world revolves around me in a negative sense. The main objective of the people who live in their worlds is to see mine come crashing down. Eh, self-conscious, self-absorbed, [lack of] self-esteem..? I feel weird typing this, allowing it open to whoever feels the need to click "Random" or "Search" or for any of my friends to go to my AIM profile and click that little link. This isn't meant to piss anyone off. It isn't, at all, to exchange apologies. I hate when people say "Sorry," especially if it's not heartfelt. I guess I'm writing this because what I'm really paranoid about is: There's someone in my house.
I actually heard the front door open and close this time. My bedroom door was cracked, and I hate that. I hate thinking people can look in without me fully seeing them. I opened it and went to the top of the stairs to see if this stranger was just standing there. He wasn't. She wasn't. I saw my cat sitting there, staring up at me. I half expected some creepy man to turn his head and come running up the stairs at me. That's still in the back of my mind, and now thinking about it is making me even more terrified. I think this is part of me being psychologically messed up. I wish I knew the answer. Am I really fucked up? Is there really someone in my house? This sounds like a pity call...
I spent the night at Franny's last night. Neither one of us said much. Our friendship has gotten to the point where we don't have to say anything. We just enjoy one's company. I like it, but when I look back on it, I wish we had talked more. Her exboyfriend Delfino, one I never met, but made fun of, was killed three days ago. Apparently it was a hate crime, and Delfino being part Hispanic, was tortured, hung by a metal chain and set on fire. He was only about seventeen years old. It's terrible. I never knew him, but I know he will be missed. I wish I hadn't made fun of him, said those things.. I feel not responsible, but guilty. And with this U of R professor who was shot right near my neighborhood.. Why? What did he do to piss someone off so bad they went to such lengths as to take him away from his family, his friends, his life? It's sick. People are sick. My neighborhood is a good neighborhood, the Far West End of Henrico County. We don't need innocent people being shot behind houses. [I'm not sure if it was his house.] I just can't deal with it anymore...
But anyway, we slept. I woke up a million times to the sound of Franny's mother screaming about how she didn't say I could stay over. I officially woke up around 11:30 I think and left. I tried to unlock the door but something was holding it. I called my mom, and she said she hadn't changed the lock at all. This sort of made me uneasy, but it eventually worked. Stuff like that gave me reason to believe that someone was here. But my mom and brother are finally home, and I need to get ready.
Was I bothered for nothing..?
♥
I actually heard the front door open and close this time. My bedroom door was cracked, and I hate that. I hate thinking people can look in without me fully seeing them. I opened it and went to the top of the stairs to see if this stranger was just standing there. He wasn't. She wasn't. I saw my cat sitting there, staring up at me. I half expected some creepy man to turn his head and come running up the stairs at me. That's still in the back of my mind, and now thinking about it is making me even more terrified. I think this is part of me being psychologically messed up. I wish I knew the answer. Am I really fucked up? Is there really someone in my house? This sounds like a pity call...
I spent the night at Franny's last night. Neither one of us said much. Our friendship has gotten to the point where we don't have to say anything. We just enjoy one's company. I like it, but when I look back on it, I wish we had talked more. Her exboyfriend Delfino, one I never met, but made fun of, was killed three days ago. Apparently it was a hate crime, and Delfino being part Hispanic, was tortured, hung by a metal chain and set on fire. He was only about seventeen years old. It's terrible. I never knew him, but I know he will be missed. I wish I hadn't made fun of him, said those things.. I feel not responsible, but guilty. And with this U of R professor who was shot right near my neighborhood.. Why? What did he do to piss someone off so bad they went to such lengths as to take him away from his family, his friends, his life? It's sick. People are sick. My neighborhood is a good neighborhood, the Far West End of Henrico County. We don't need innocent people being shot behind houses. [I'm not sure if it was his house.] I just can't deal with it anymore...
But anyway, we slept. I woke up a million times to the sound of Franny's mother screaming about how she didn't say I could stay over. I officially woke up around 11:30 I think and left. I tried to unlock the door but something was holding it. I called my mom, and she said she hadn't changed the lock at all. This sort of made me uneasy, but it eventually worked. Stuff like that gave me reason to believe that someone was here. But my mom and brother are finally home, and I need to get ready.
Was I bothered for nothing..?
♥