That's what I fear. I lay my trust on paranoia. It makes me feel better when I say to myself: "you're just paranoid, it's inside your head, there's nothing really". But what if it's all real? All the people on the streets who know me and laugh at me, they're all true. For some strange reason they're all interested of me, they spend their days talking about me, laughing at me. They're so big group of friends that at least one of them always sees me on a day, though for me they're always complete strangers. Why? Did I ask this? Is this what my life is ment to be? To suffer, suffer and fucking suffer? Where is God? There is no, otherwise it would've help me. Sometimes I feel I'm feeling better, but that same sick interest of all those people towards me stays. Why am I writing this though no one even reads this or cares? Why can't I be spending my time with friends right now? Why can't I enjoy that summer outside? Fuck this all.