To give a brief introduction, I must first tell you how I came to this conclusion.  I was in a fast-food “restaurant” with friends the other night, and the local commercial radio station was playing in the background.  The disc jockey was asking callers a question, until someone gave a “good” answer.  The question was, “what song best describes you?”

Well, I knew what song best described me in a second.  Paranoid Android by Radiohead.  Why?  Well, mainly because I am paranoid.  My nick on IRC is PARANOiA, and without the funky capitals [which are not supposed to be hardcore, but stylish] basically calls me Paranoia, the noun form of the adjective “paranoid”.  But, why was I PARANOiA?  Why was I paranoid?

I don’t quite know why, but I am paranoid about everything.  I sat thinking about this for a long, long while.  And I reached the conclusion that my paranoia about everything will lead me to never, ever be happy.

For a start, I am absolutely positive the world hates me.  Why?  I don’t know.  I was always the nerd, the quiet, anti-social loser in school, and that, of course, made me the obvious target.  Which, I must say, can be neither helped nor blamed.  But it did lead me to develop a sore neck from constantly watching my back, my behaviour, my lifestyle, in an effort to stop the targeting.  Walking down the street, I never see strangers.  I see only people who haven’t found either (a) their reason or (b) their method of causing me torment, pain and hardship.

So, if the whole world hates me, what about my friends?  What about the people I care about?  A very astute observation.  But I have this idea... no, it’s not an idea, more like a theory, a hypothesis, based on countless experiences... well, it’s the theory that everyone I’ve ever cared about, anyone I’ve ever liked, stops liking me as soon as I return the said affection/love/friendship/whatever.  Therefore, I’ve found my life to be a large sine wave of emotion, riding high and low depending on where I am on it in relation to my friends/significant other (who I’m guessing are the cosine wave[?]).  This, of course, is a great sign that I’m paranoid, I guess, feeling that I can’t ever in my life care for something without losing it.  But it’s not a choice I’ve made.  Don’t think of it like that.

So my life is basically a struggle to not care for anything.  I constantly do my best to push people away, because I hate the ride down my sine wave.  Ride/drop/whatever.  And if you know me, I’m guessing you notice how I love to hate you, because the more I push you away, the more you seem to care for me.  Ah, but the minute I try to express even the feeling that I do care that you care, it slides.

Examples.  Every time I’ve felt that a person in my life was significant enough to make a thorough change/development for, that exact time, from the moment I’ve committed myself, until BEFORE they find out, it ends.  I can personally think of five examples, one of which involves a diary of my thoughts, which I think I need back.  Ouch.  That could probably get me arrested/locked away/put in a strange jacket with long sleeves for a long while.

And I’ve barely started explaining why this makes me paranoid, and how I’m a paranoid fuck, and how I can’t ever, ever trust anyone who seems to get past my crusty, cold exterior and understands and embraces what they see.  For example, the one time in my like I’ve felt truly happy with where I was was several weeks/months ago.  I was held, for fucks sake, and that is better than I ever wanted.  Forget sex, forget money, forget all that, being held when you expect to be pushed away is the only great feeling you will ever need.  And, oh I was happy.

And all I could think of was that it would all come crashing down upon me.

And all I could think of was that she would never be as happy as I would be.

And all I could think of was that she couldn’t care as much as I would.  It wasn’t possible.

And I slowly died a little more, then.  This was my happiest moment.

This is how Paranoid Android best describes me.  I may not win a Venga Boys or Backstreet Boys CD with this answer, but it really doesn’t bother me.  What bothers me is that I’ve come to realise that I’ll never be happy.