Paranoia, is just another term for ignorance. – Hunter S. Thompson
The paranoid: How do they live? In a perpetual state of ignorance! They don’t know, so they must concoct a narrative to move their discomfort back dead-center of the comfort zone. This is the mild end, a place for the little story-tellers to gather. On the more extreme end you have those that panic. This type allows their paranoia to brew so it bubbles over the vat of bullshit they’ve cooked up. Mmm mmm mmmm and they sure as hell think they are some hot-shit. These lavations spill over the dam in a tidal wave of noxious gas.
It stinks like the low-tide at noon at Boston harbor. There lay in wake, a sea of carcasses of almost an alien quality because the pollution has caused these creatures to adapt to filth. They are so used to being so goddamn paranoid, they actually believe their imaginations are the state of things.
If I seem apathetic towards them it’s because I can’t muster a fuck to give other than to point out the little panic attacks in progress. Red Alert: This one is about to blow! Clear a path! I’ll take a couple of steps back and witness the fish-flopping for my personal amusement, that’s me in the shallow end. Over in the deep where I mingle with those unseen things in the darkness of the Abyss, I have my hand in it.
Keep your eyes on the Watch-tower. Pick up clues, look for hints, anything at all that will cure your ignorance and while you’re at it, heed this warning: You are surely in over your head.