Just Because You're Paranoid Don't Mean They're Not After You

Today I woke up feeling kinda shitty. Yesterday I had smoked way too much. I had a panic attack and I don't think I'm ever going to smoke again. Or at least for awhile. I got really paranoid and thought I had done something wrong. Something bad. This is a pattern with me. I don't ever want to feel that way again. And I don't wanna be on Lexapro, so. I just need to stay away from drugs. Even really soft drugs like pot because apparently, I can't handle it. I get way. Too. Fucking. Paranoid.

And this morning my dad called. My mom had left a message on my machine last night saying she had something important to talk to me about and my first thought was that the police had called my parents after I did whatever horrible thing I had done. So now I'm getting paranoid when I'm sober. Next step schizophrenia. Har har.

Anyway my dad calls and tells me my grandmas dead. I never knew her well. This is my mom's mom, my Jamaican grandmother. She did live with us for a couple of months. My little sister and I always thought she was wayyy crazy. She would wake me up at three am and tell me to get the hell out of her room. She would be really belligerent, but I mean she had a stroke. That's why she was staying with us. I should have been more understanding. In the beginning, the first few weeks I tried to be really nice to her but eventually my patience wore thin. I was getting an hour or two of sleep a night and was feeling really angry selfish thoughts towards her. The next day she would have no recollection of what had happened the previous night. This frustrated me. She would tell me her conspiracy theories, about my mom trying to take away the money she had hidden in some overseas bank account. This frustrated me. My mom was doing a lot for her, taking her in and shit and she was having all these paranoid delusions about her.

But I know what it's like to be paranoid and to not be able to help feeling like that. Over the summer I had no idea. I had no clue but...yesterday I was really paranoid, the same way that she used to be. I get it now. And now she's dead.

Part of me really wants to feel sad. After my dad called I hung up the phone and cried a little. It didn't feel really good crying it felt fake and self-indulgent. Then I thought, how do I REALLY feel.

I don't feel as sad as I feel I should, that's how I feel. But forcing tears and trying to feel sad I think would make me feel even more disgusted with myself.

A lot of people at my school are tripping today. It's Zonker Harris Day. The sun is shining and bands are performing directly in front of my window (I have the blinds down). Part of me wants to stay inside and sleep all day. The other part of me wants everyone to SHUT THE FUCK UP and stop being so godamn happy. No part of me cares to partake in the dancing and singing and whatevering theyre all doing now.

I

am

a

CHILD.