Help our souls // bws

The point of no return

Paranoïa /parəˈnɔɪə/ noun ;
mental condition characterized by delusions of persecution, unwarranted jealousy, or exaggerated self-importance, typically worked into an organized system. It may be an aspect of chronic personality disorder, of drug abuse, or of a serious condition such as schizophrenia in which the person loses touch with reality.

Exaggerated. This overbearing feeling of being watched, observed, being laughed at; everything was exaggerated. In other words, it wasn't utterly real. Or was it ? I felt like a freak in a cage, surrounded by thousands of eager eyes, demanding for more and more abnormal things to watch.

Scoot, the voice rang in my ears. I shook my head. I chased it away from my mind. I looked over this option the second I crossed school's doorway. I already had great difficulties to stay awake and focus in class, which meant I accumulated tons of lack in every subject, so scooting would be more than dumb, even from me. If I wanted to pass my exams, I needed to attend my lessons. Conclusion : really bad idea. As you wish, it was just a suggestion. "I know, but you're really not helping. Just go back to sleep and leave me alone," I talked silently to myself. Don't be so rude, I'm just lending a hand, the voice sniggered. I sighed and prayed it would leave me alone for a bit. I hated how normal it had become. My whole body cried its hatred to the voice, yet my mind wouldn't care at all. I'd hated people before, but it was nothing compared to this.

"Calm down." I breathed and kept on padding among the crowded hallways. My eyes scrolled automatically everything that surrounded me in my head, but lamentably failed. Too many informations. My heart began to pound in my chest, my blood banging against my head as hard as a hammer pushing a nail in a hard rock. I tried to hold back the feeling of panic invading me. I gripped my bag, my knuckles turned white and my nails were sinking into the palm of my hands. I visualised the path to my first class : French. I had to walk 15 meters approximately before turning to the left and I was there. Come on. I sped up, swallowing hard. I fixed my gaze on my shoes to avoid people's look. I didn't want to see them looking at me like I didn't belong here and laugh at me. A big red light flashed in my mind for a second. Exaggerating, or maybe not ? Within a minute, I crossed the door and a feeling of relief took over me. I went straight to a seat in the back of the room and examined the room : nothing seemed to be unusual, no one seemed to notice me. I put my hands on the first flat thing I found, which was the table, and counted ten tiny breathes. Relief again. I felt better. My hands flat on the table, I smoothed myself and let my mind wonder, what if I get used to being paranoiac ? Will I look around myself, examining everything like a robot ? I didn't know if it would be a good thing or not. Maybe I'd feel less trapped and terrible if I actually get used to it.

The door grated. My heart pulsed in my head two times and a pair of eyes appeared in the dark. I immediately opened my heavy eyes, searching for someone who would be looking at me, trying to prove I wasn't being paranoiac again.

Bingo. I spotted Bradley speaking with our teacher and giving me side looks, a goofy smile stuck on his face. The dissonant noise become louder all of sudden. His name was on every lips. They all knew about his band now. They all heard something about them going on tour, or even went to a show. What if ? The whispers whistled in my ears more and more. As soon as the teacher padded back to the office, four girls, included Chloe who took him as her prey, surrounded him. They squealed something incomprehensible from where I was seating, which although did not prevent me to grimace at the high pitched voices. I guessed he should have expected this reaction from them, suddenly everyone wanted to talk to him, be friend with him, and more. A familiar heartache appeared when Chloe's hand went all the way up his uncovered and now more muscular arm. He slightly but clearly cringed and grimaced. I chuckled as her cheeky face slowly broke down in a mixture of anger, of immeasurable frustration, of intense and tremendous feeling of shame. The three other friends, according to her definition of friend, suppressed a laugh by champing their lower lips. Watching her being humiliated in front of her friends happened to be the good thing of the day. Brad jostled the girls without being too strong and looked behind as Chloe followed him. His eyes shot one big massive 'help!' at me while he walked towards me. I glared at her and brought my fist, the one I hit her with, to my face, looking faintly surprised. She probably got the message as she stopped right there. I guessed she did not want to have a broken nose. Wow, did I actually look that badass ? I kind of enjoyed that.