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I feel like I’m being watched

February 28, 2011

I feel like I’m being watched.

I am not worried that whoever is behind this will harm me, because I’ve felt this before and nothing bad has happened. Also, it feels like more than one person, like an impromptu group of benign observers.

Nevertheless it’s a smoldering curiosity, and I stir the smoke with my every move. Sometimes I move theatrically or speak loudly and do dramatic things because of this feeling.

I remember when everything felt like a clue to some bigger, broader plan that I had to figure out. I felt like I was apart of something big that would explain past, present and future to me. I thrived off of finding out what was going to happen next, but nothing ever did. It was always chapter one suspense. I had all these questions about what was happening to me and why, and I never got answers.

After a while a voice named Bella came along and told me I was very sick, that what I was experiencing was a mental illness. In many ways, my concept of my illness replaced my previous tendency; it became a new framework for the same thoughts. Every symptom became a clue for the prediction of my next breakdown. I lived in fear, but I kept moving forward as best I knew how in life.

Recently I realized that life does not hold all the clues necessary to piece together an answer about the past, present and future. My symptoms also don’t create a map that when plotted will tell me what is going to happen next. The past does not predict the future. No one knows what’s going to happen next. The best minds and the most sensible people have tried and made good guesses and gotten it right some of the time, but not all of it. The looseness and estimations of probability were things Bella helped me apply to everything when I got carried away.

I learned to take things at face value. I accepted that I sometimes heard the phone ring when it didn’t, and maybe there wasn’t anyone from another world on the other line. Maybe I was just supposed to sit there and keep doing my homework and let someone else answer the phone. Maybe I wasn’t supposed to do anything.

I accepted that I sometimes saw frightening shadow people and felt their thick presence of evil in the room with me. I accepted that they had never physically hurt me, and that if I went passed through a doorway holding my breath they didn’t follow me. And I went on with my night, peeking occasionally over the top of my book to make sure Shirley, Amy, Bella and I were the only ones in the room.

I accepted that I might be a normal person and not a witch or someone with special powers. Well, I do sometimes have some bizarre beliefs about what humans can do, but…

Anyway after a while Bella said she had to go. She said that she needed to leave eventually and we were getting to be such good friends she worried she wouldn’t be able to say goodbye when the time came. So she left. It was a tough time for all of us, but the three of us are doing well after 2 years of her being gone. I am very grateful to her. I’m actually the age she was when she left. (She was with me for 8 months I think, and she grew from 9 to 19 during that time. Funny how things go, isn’t it?)

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