Fear

I wrote this last night, but it was so late I didn't get around to typing it up.

Just lately the only way I know I'm alive is that I still get scared. Irrational fear, but it rips through me like fire. Like I watched a film about a man who drowned three women in a bath, and I get scared walking down the street. My street. You can't get drowned walking down my street. And a while back I read a conspiracy theory about Paul McCartney, and I was so scared I couldn't move from this one corner of my bedroom. It wasn't even scary, but I was petrified, for no reason. Everything else that used to make me feel alive, or even just remind me that I was alive has lost effect. Pain, nothing. I am becoming a recluse. Phone off. Abandoning Facebook and Twitter. I will fade away and update only this blog. People will forget I ever existed. Sounds good to me.

I turned my phone on, just now, and Izzie has been bombarding me with texts that lay unread until now. She's worried, everyone's worried. Blah. I wrote a ridiculously long Facebook message to her as a reply, said my phone's broken. Explained Bipolar with an analogy about a car. It was pretty creative. So I'm not doing so well at becoming a recluse. But I want to be one. I'm always wanting the simpler option and it sounds easier to just be a nobody.