Paranoia

I've been told multiple times in my life that it's a good thing I don't do drugs because if I did, I'd probably end up hurting myself due to my excessive paranoia. Ever since I was small, I've had irrational fears and odd mannerisms and as I've grown older, those mannerisms have grown ever more strange.

Take Friday for example. I was walking to the parking garage with my friend Gabe, and we were talking about gas stations and cars. I suddenly remembered a story I heard from one of my high school friends. Here's how the story goes.... There was a group of friends in Tallahassee who all contracted AIDS. These men were angry and decided to take their anger out on innocent citizens of Tally. They got syringes, drew some of their infected blood, and rigged the needles up to random gas pumps. When innocent citizens would come to pump gas, they would get stabbed with the needles and roughly 20 more people contracted AIDS. I told Gabe this story and then told him that I'm deathly afraid of getting stabbed when I go to pump gas. So now, instead of just pulling the pump out and putting it straight into my car, I grab the pump from the top, flip it over, and inspect it for needles before letting it anywhere near my car. I also told him about how I inspect the card reader for those identity theft devices before swiping my debit card.

But like I said, this paranoia isn't new to me. When I was younger, I slept with a little bat under my pillow. You know, the free ones you use to get for being one of the first thousand people at a ball game. I couldn't fall asleep unless my hand was under my pillow, gripping the back so I'd be prepared to bludgeon anyone who tried to kill me in my sleep.

If that's not paranoia, I don't know what is.