Paranoia-Personal Narrative

Fear a powerful emotion, once it is born it is merely impossible for it to perish. Fear corrupts, tortures, and haunts all. Humans have a horror encrypted into their core. With the power of holding one's fear forms the feeling of paranoia leading to the most holiest power of all, control. Throughout history paranoia has been used to control mass populations and indoctrinate their mind. A common example of this, is the reign of Joseph Stalin; dictator of the Soviet Union who used the paranoia of death and being sent to concentration camp to control his citizens and sustain power. George Orwell, a man who recognized this demoralizing form of dictatorship and was terrified, of what might come if no one rebelled against this. Furthermore he

The sparks fly in the air, there are marshmallows in your hair, and you’re with your favorite people in the world. This is called the best place on earth, for me at least. I enjoy camping so very much, you meet new people, experience different things, make new memories, and have a blast. You also see new sights, smell some things, and always wake up to the birds singing and not the bustling streets of the city. Camping is my go to activity.

As my car climbed the hill, my heart sunk into my stomach. I parked as far away from my friends as I could and quickly exited the car, not once looking at them. Now it was every man for himself. Emerging into the open air, I suddenly became aware of myself. I could feel my puffy, blood-shot eyes. My palms became slimy. My fingers clinched into a fist and my nails dug into my skin. My sight blurred and my tunnel of vision tried to focus on the front door. Every step seemed more awkward than the last. Eyes pierced me from all sides. I felt naked. My body trembled like a sheep in the midst of wolves.

Phoenix is a 28 year old woman who is currently a full-time student and unemployed. She is in a domestic partnership and she has a son, which is not legally her partner’s. She stays at home most days and waits for her son to come home from school and her partner to come home from her job. Phoenix constantly ponders thoughts of her partner’s fidelity to their partnership.

It is true in life that everything happens for a reason. It is also true to say that sometimes it is all about being in the right place, at the right time. There was never a more prominent example of this than a traumatic summers evening, only a few years ago.

Stepping out of the car I analyzed the environment around me. A gust of fresh air flowed swiftly through my hair and caressed my face. The temperature outside was mildly warm and humid. Rays of sunshine blazed down upon me and begun to heat up my black t-shirt. The black and rough asphalt crumbled beneath my feet as I walked. I could tell that it was recently paved because of how smooth it was when I slid my shoe across it. Sweat collected on both of my palms because of the anxiety I gathered prior to my visit. Everything on my body seemed heavier at the time. The necklace dangling around my neck. My phone and wallet that rested in my pockets. It was the result of all of the built up tension within me. I had no idea what to expect.

When I was younger I had always been described as mature. Although I wasn’t anywhere near being “mature”, it was a word always used to describe me, well-mannered and mature. While my brother was goofy and social, I was shy and serious. We were twins yet total opposites. As a child, because that was the word almost always associated with me, it crae unusual, almost toxic idea about myself. I had to be mature to be what people liked about me. So, it never occurred to me to be able to not take myself seriously and say something like “Oops that was dumb” and laugh it off. For some reason that didn’t make sense to me to say silly things like that.

In preparation for starting our experiment, it took my confidant, Carla, and I about an hour to finally initiate the first move. Before even holding hands with strangers my mind was swirling with multiple questions and thoughts, like “Why am I even doing this?”, “I don’t appreciate making people feel uncomfortable.”, “Why is Mrs.Henry torturing me!”, “Can I just not do it?”, and so on. In addition to my thoughts and questions, I felt myself sweating and my stomach felt as if it was in a twisted knot. While I approached my first victim I felt the temperature of my body raise up to boiling point and the color of my skin turn from snow white to lava red in a split second. To make things worse, once I held onto the lady 's hand, she was gripping onto mine and was holding on tight, and my reaction was to laugh because when you are in an uncomfortable situation you honestly don’t know how to

Enemies Within One common conflict found in Fahrenheit 451 and McCarthy’s speeches is the use of paranoia. Both authors use paranoia to scare the audience in multiple ways. Senator McCarthy introduces paranoia into his speech by stating, “There the bright young men who are born with silver spoons in their mouths are the ones who have been most traitorous” ( “Enemies”). McCarthy causes uneasiness to the readers by inferring that communist threats can be traced to wealthy people, who others have shared secrets with. In the novel, Bradbury illustrates paranoia for Montag from Captain Beatty and the firemen.

As if it had been washed away (covered by lavender dish soap) but still stayed. A phantom that traced every shadow. Johns basement smelled a bit more like urine, a bit less like lavender. Instead there was a shadow of vodka and shouting and sweat. If you sat on johns couch you could stare at the green sponge painted walls and think about how youre parents must think you smoke from all the sents you drag home. You can think about how the boy sitting next to you was in your kindergarten class. How he road the ferry with you to middle school. How you played connect the dots with his acne in your head. How his name is timothy, you think. You can pretend there isnt a needle in his arm, his left arm. You can pretend his right arm isnt pressed against your thigh. You can think about how boys named timothy shouldn't ever have needle in their arms, how it feels wrong, how he wears adult hood, the gohst of a mustache and manhood, like a mask. You can concentrate on the needle. Remember how often youve said no to that. How often youve defended the hypocripsy of the white capped orange bottles at the bottom of your closet. That grow like dragon gold. You can concentrate on anything except the hand that creeps up lazily as if uncertain, inconsistently twisting skin against skin. Compare him, timothy, to a g train. Impractical, flying upward. A problem with no clear, or possible, solution. Ignore it, ignore the fadeing light, ignore the drink in your hand, ignore the pulse in your head, ignore the hand as it finds its way under cloth. Ignore it because when it, timothy, turns and presses and demands, you cannot scream because you dont know

It was record breaking temperatures on this July 4th day. Red, white, and blue filling up the stands. Fans and umbrellas protecting spectators from the heat of the sun. It was about game time and I was getting ready to take the field for the last home game. Butterflies in my stomach, but I had to tell myself “it’s just another game”. Even though in my heart I knew it was not just another game.

The information in the article “What your Most Vivid Memories Say About you?” can be integrated to the story “The Stolen Party” to analyze characters such as Rosaura and her mother. This can be done by viewing how characters memories define them as people and form their schemas, views and identity.

Approximately 1 in 5 adults suffer from a mental illness in the United States. There are over 200 classified mental illnesses and this essay is going to look at one of them. According to the U.S. National Library of Medicine the definition of Paranoid Personality disorder is a mental condition in which a person has a long-term pattern of distrust and suspicion of others. This essay will focus on the causes and symptoms, on who has it, and on how it can be treated.

I woke up. Feeling groggy, I went to take my pills. Being the way my brain was, I needed pills to function. I see things, but others don’t see them. These things, they are right in front of my face, but they are not visible to other people. I could not find my pills, I looked everywhere, even in my drug stash. They were not there. Wait, I sold them to Angelo. Well, remembering this, I need to go to the drug store.

Immediately I dashed out of the doctor’s office. Sprinting down the busy streets of New York, dodging clueless bystanders. I could feel my heart beginning to race. The anticipation was too nerve wracking. The sweat began to build up on my hairline. My knees were starting to shake. I could only imagine my face to innocent people on the street, probably as red as a tomato. Oh well, I could live with that.