Perhaps there is Beauty in Paranoia. One is always worried, shaken, to open the window in order to avoid the neighbour. To be constantly awakened to your senses. Your body floods with hopes of endorphins, when push comes to shove pick life, pick life. We find trivia in life's questions. Where is the hope of being anti-anthropocentric. In remaining spiritual, I hardly ever write pen on paper anymore, where I found the beauty of acute linguistics. To feel the remedies of surety and constancy. Speaking in motivational speeches is not always honest. There is something to the nature of paranoia. The sacading of the eyes that comes with paranoia allows more to be perceived and acknowledged; to witness many more visual stimuli. I'm sure I see more of this world than you do. Twitching and Fiddling, I'm sure I have more fine motor skills than you. I've been depressed and I've learned to fight it, I'm sure I'm stronger than you.
Be strong with me. Because there may be beauty in paranoia.
---But I doubt it.
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