(no subject)
I often ignore people when they knock on my door. I hear that rapping, and suddenly get perfectly still. I do not dare move, lest the floor boards creak and give me away. My heart beats faster, and I wonder, who's there? I want them to leave, to stop knocking. Then the phone rings. I know who's calling; I have caller ID. I don't answer it. I hate these sounds - the knocking, the ringing. I think I always have. I used to jump when I was in my room at my dad's and suddenly he shouted something from behind the locked door and knocked with purpose. The cell phone rings, and 9/10 times it's someone I don't wish to speak to. Even when I have no aversions to the caller, I still am jarred by the ring, by the thought that I will have to pick it up and talk to them. I hate the phone...
He must have heard me banging around in the kitchen and heard the music playing on my computer. It's only 10:10. I can't be asleep yet. My away message says I'm reading. He had to have known I was here. And yet, I froze when the knock came, wishing he'd think I was gone, or sleeping, or in the shower. The shower wasn't on. He would have heard it. The pounding in my ears was unbearable. Then the phone rang. I tiptoed across the room. Called ID confirmed it. I put the phone down without answering it. It stopped ringing after the first three rings.
Why do I get such anxiety from the knocks at my door? It wouldn't hurt to just answer and tell them I don't want company. I can just apologize and say, "I want to be alone tonight." Easy enough. So why tiptoe around? Sometimes I look at myself and wonder, why do I act this way?
I have this underlying fear lately. I wonder when I'll go insane. Genetic disposition and an environment to nurture such disorders. Bipolar disorder. Clinical depression. Runs in the family...I share those genes. Nicole still hasn't been diagnosed with schizophrenia, but it's the likeliest conclusion these days. They've got her on so many drugs that she's so out of it all the time. But that's nothing new. Fuck, it's a persistent state. I forget what she's like off of drugs. When was that, ten years ago? No, she was on something then too. But a lot less. She must be taking 10, 12 pills. Uppers, downers, sideways, circles, she takes a pill to send her flying in all directions. There's always something wrong with her, some ailment, some neurotic tick, some surgery looming, some injury...My dad called tonight and said she fell down the stairs. May have broken her thumb and toes. She of course hurt her left side, the side affected by the stroke. Apparently she took all her pills, including her sleeping pills, and decided to go to the apartment community center, second floor. Probably not an accident. These things happen too often to be an accident...I have to wonder.
When is it my turn to go insane? Am I already insane?
He must have heard me banging around in the kitchen and heard the music playing on my computer. It's only 10:10. I can't be asleep yet. My away message says I'm reading. He had to have known I was here. And yet, I froze when the knock came, wishing he'd think I was gone, or sleeping, or in the shower. The shower wasn't on. He would have heard it. The pounding in my ears was unbearable. Then the phone rang. I tiptoed across the room. Called ID confirmed it. I put the phone down without answering it. It stopped ringing after the first three rings.
Why do I get such anxiety from the knocks at my door? It wouldn't hurt to just answer and tell them I don't want company. I can just apologize and say, "I want to be alone tonight." Easy enough. So why tiptoe around? Sometimes I look at myself and wonder, why do I act this way?
I have this underlying fear lately. I wonder when I'll go insane. Genetic disposition and an environment to nurture such disorders. Bipolar disorder. Clinical depression. Runs in the family...I share those genes. Nicole still hasn't been diagnosed with schizophrenia, but it's the likeliest conclusion these days. They've got her on so many drugs that she's so out of it all the time. But that's nothing new. Fuck, it's a persistent state. I forget what she's like off of drugs. When was that, ten years ago? No, she was on something then too. But a lot less. She must be taking 10, 12 pills. Uppers, downers, sideways, circles, she takes a pill to send her flying in all directions. There's always something wrong with her, some ailment, some neurotic tick, some surgery looming, some injury...My dad called tonight and said she fell down the stairs. May have broken her thumb and toes. She of course hurt her left side, the side affected by the stroke. Apparently she took all her pills, including her sleeping pills, and decided to go to the apartment community center, second floor. Probably not an accident. These things happen too often to be an accident...I have to wonder.
When is it my turn to go insane? Am I already insane?