Well, Eeeeverybody Becomes A Paranoid Schizophrenic…Sometimes….

Let’s face it. Everyone’s crazy. Everyone goes around pretending that they’re the happiest thing alive, to not convey their inner securities. So yes, your best friend is most likely a serial killer bent on killing pandas covered in humus, your mother secretly wants to be able to play the didgeridoo through her ears, and you’re just simply a cold-hearted bastard. But one thing that simply intrigues me, is paranoia. I don’t see why paranoia is a valid mental ‘disease’, heck, who ISN’T paranoid? I can’t walk down a street without thinking everyone that passes me by is a mugger, and then when they don’t mug me, they laugh at me behind my back. Prams don’t have babies in them, they’re loaded with bombs (Curse you Fallout 3). Cars are full of mobsters intent on blowing me sky high as they drive past. Not even the people in toll booths are safe from my suspicious ways (I was sure they were going to kill me BEFORE I saw that bit from The Godfather, I’m original alright?). I don’t know, maybe it’s the media telling us breathing gives us cancer, maybe it’s the constant threat of terrorism, maybe it’s the fact that all youths are twats, or maybe it’s just simply how I refuse to stop making lists, but everyone seems to be incredibly scared of everything, after all, everything now has the potential to kill us, from the humble toaster, to the not-so-humble axe-wielding maniac, however funny they are.

And of course what goes well with paranoia? Nothing more than good ol’ crippling depression. When the day comes that you become depressed, if that day hasn’t come already, I can tell you that you my friend, have hit a big-ass goldmine. Because you remember all that awful paranoia you had before, that caused you to be threatened by death every day? Well, it’s going to be a perfect partner for your depression, as you won’t wake up any more thinking ‘FUCK, IF I GET OUT OF BED, I’M GOING TO EXPLODE’, instead you think ‘Oh goody, if I get out of bed, I’m going to explode!’. You practically skip to work/school/whatever the fuck you do for a living, in the vain hope you achieve arthritis, or that a toaster might come hurtling downward from the heavens onto your head, or that Westboro Church mistakes you for a fag and burns you alive on the holy alter of ignorance.

Still, mental diseases really aren’t something to be ashamed of, merely something to be hidden and suppressed until the day you snap, end up killing a third of your colleagues, get put in a mental home, and laugh hysterically in a white padded cell accompanied by a straight jacket pinning you together, all the while psychiatrists tut their faces off at you behind a one way mirror. My future looks bleak in comparison.

Still, I will leave you with a quote that I see as relevant, from the one and only Marcus Fenix “THAT’S FIVE MOTHERFUCKERS”