love, paranoia and finding God

I was reading blogs today - just as one normally does when procrastinating assessments - when I came upon something so simply obvious that I just sat there and thought:

"Oh.?"

"Oh."

"Wow."

So many write about cyclical patterns. This made me think of Rondo form (ABACA) and then Beethoven and then a story I wrote in school. Does this mean that I've been chasing my tail all my life? If so, I feel even less like an intelligent lifeform and more like a yoyo or merry-go-round or like someone who is sitting on a broken merry-go-round for half an hour and still has not realised that it isn't working. I think that thus far, if I were to summarise my life under categories or into themes they would be: love, paranoia and finding God. And I guess, if my life really is like one big circle, then it is difficult to know where the start was or end is...or if there even is a start or an end.

For the purpose of this blog I'm beginning with paranoia, because love is difficult to talk about without feeling strange and God is too personal to talk about until the end of the blog when I am feeling more comfortable with my computer and blog readers.

My paranoia is: suffocating, necessary, deliberate, unintentional, uncontrollable, controlling, non-discriminatory and psychotic. Sometimes I cannot even function with the voices and images spinning through my head. I see things all the time, shadows, faces, people, animals. I dismiss them superficially and tell myself that the corner of my eye is seeing things or that its just the play of the light or that I'm probably still half asleep. I wake up and see a man standing by my door. He disappears and in a flash is at the end of my bed, and then just a hand span away from my face. My heart pounds in my ears, I close my eyes, pretend I'm asleep or dead or somewhere else. I tell myself that if I believe it enough, that he'll believe it too. I'm scared stiff and can't switch on the light. But this is just my paranoia. When I was overseas I saw a little figure, or a girl? perhaps? sitting on my mother's bed next to mine. I tried to get someone else to see, but they couldn't. I woke them up so they could see. But they couldn't. I didn't want to sleep, or cry, or breathe, or speak. I felt silly. But besides the many moments of hallucinations or dreams or shadows or just imagination, paranoia isn't just for the vague and potentially supernatural. I'm scared of people a lot of the time, although it may not seem that way. I'm scared most of all of myself, of what I will do, of what I will think of myself. I'm paranoid that people will get the wrong idea, and leave me or judge me or just quite simply forget. But now I realise that everyone has these thoughts, that I was being selfish and untrue and that everyone else deserves so much more.

Love. I love love. I love to love. And of course, we love to be loved. I think for the first time in my entire life, I've finally worked it out instead of just convincing myself that I knew all along. Love is caring for someone as if they're your child, your sister, your mother, father, brother, friend. No one is a stranger when you learn to love. Hah. I will probably change my mind, but who knows. Love should come before work, time. We shouldn't wait to tell someone that we love them. Why? Death has a funny way of getting us to realise what is important and to actually live the life we've been given.

In my saddest, darkest, depressive moments. The thing that makes me feel better is seeing God as the hands which cradle my fragile mind and body and loves me regardless of my lack and mistakes.

This hasn't turned out at all the way in which I was hoping. I intended a sort of apology.