I’m trying to decide if there’s a problem with me and people or not.
I feel like I bring my own sadness to myself. It’s like I could win the lottery and someone baked me a cake all in the same day and I’d still find a reason to be sad about it. I’d say things like “Oh, yeah someone is probably going to mug me on the way to accepting the winnings and that cake is poisoned.”
Then I’d promptly blow the entire winnings on something stupid like shoes that Shaq once stepped on accidentally.

Maybe my paranoia makes it harder for me to make friends or lasting ones for that matter. I had some genuine friends on Neoseeker yet I vilified them in my mind. I gave them hidden motives that probably never even crossed their minds. I do the same with other people in real life too. I’m Lady Macbething myself. Hopefully I keep my hands.
Sometimes I wonder if I like being miserable and paranoid. Maybe in my sick mind I feel safe in the empty accusations and exaggerated circumstances. Maybe it has affected me for so long that even trying to fathom getting better is strange and will cause an identity crisis. This paranoia is part of who I am. The various degrees either bring people in and see me as a funny guy where they can say “Haha Chas thinks that if he goes in the ocean he is gonna step in medical waste so he wears shoes on the beach,” or pushes them away where they say “Man, Chas cheer up and see things on the bright side.”
Maybe I don’t wanna get better and that I hope this self destruct is permanent one day. Maybe I like living with fear that if I let it get that bad that I’ll miss things I genuinely love like a new Payday heist or dinner with the Queen or golfing with my brother. Maybe too many big pictures ruin my sight of the short term doodles that won’t ever be as big and bright as becoming an engineer would be but still give me some solas. 
I could use a glass if birch beer right now.
Have I hit the existentalist point yet where you call it a crisis? How many existential crisises does it take to be normal?

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