Make that a fat claustrophobic guy in a box, duct taped to inescapable perfection, buried 6 feet under rock-hard cement.
Hey baby, let's get stuffy.
(And check out my mad MS Paint skillz)
This had lead me to over-assume. Situations as equivalent as a gentle baby rash, through my Paranoia-cular ( Again, shit made up ) , will look like a cancerous tumour, that grows on your face, and your crotch.
And boyy, ain't the cancerous tumour itch like a bitch, it'll leave me rolling in raging restlessness like a snail in a salt house.
In my head at least, wriggling like a seizure every time I get the silent treatment would redeem me a straight jacket and a spoon clenched in my mouf' .
Sure, I can put up my nose up high, showing off my nostril hair in all it's glory, saying "I don't give a dangling damn" every time paranoia kicks in the door.
But we all gotta admit that we are all just dynamites, attached to wicks of our insecurities. What differentiates us all, is only the length of those wicks, how easily those wicks are lit and how would it explode.
Suck my wick.
Some wicks are dead-short, and would be triggered the exact moment you accuse him of secretly liking to have his ass tapped, by a dude, and he'll explode like a nuclear pinata. Violent, but funny and full of surprises.
Well some wicks are so long, that even countless attempts of Yo Mama jokes wouldn't even light a spark. Altho secretly it has already been lit, we won't see it explode. Give him a confined space, a pillow ( or a pen and paper if he's the pathe- I mean, poetic kind) and you'd see him go booommm(!), at a devastating rate of a mercun pop-pop.
Trying not to think the thing that makes you go all uneasy, will not help. Of course, when you try to get rid of it, you will still, in a way still think about it. The more the effort, the harder it will go down.
Optimism ? . Pffyeah, sure. What would you do, if all along you thought it was raining rainbows and butterflies, but finally you found out, it's raining pigs and pickle juice ? . Optimism is only the mechanism to help you deny the stench of the poop, but will go haywire if you finally see the poop. Pessimism on the other hand, would already expect something poopy when the smell arises, so even if he did see poop in the end, he wouldn't be surprised.
But when it turns out that it wasn't poop after all but a pot of golden nuggets, an optimist wouldn't be surprised cause he knew all along, that pot of gold doesn't smell like poop. But who wants, to NOT be surprised by the sight of goddigitty gold, am I right ? . Pessimists sure wouldn't want that. Our eyes will bulge bigger when see the glare of the golden ray, and the effect of a surprise, you know the giddy in the tummy effect, would hit us as quadruple as hard, than on those optimists.
Now how about that, a pessimist trying to be optimistic about pessimism ? .
Then again, pessimism is not the way to slaughter the neck of paranoia. Well in fact, it's just throwing more wood into the campfire of said paranoia. Optimism, in the other hand, not to say it wouldn't help, but when it backfires, you know you wouldn't mind to snap a neck or two when the pessimists go "WE TOLD YOU SOOO !" .
So now, what ?
Distraction, yes the sweet dew of distraction. A distraction, which you don't put your conscious effort in.
You don't force yourself to play your Game Boy to against-your-own-will ditch your homework while chanting in your head "I'm distracting myself, I'm distracting myself" don't you ? . You'll get Game Over, Restart ? 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 0, as fast as the thought of homework keep piling in your head.
But when it feels natural, you put down your pen and just play your portable gaming system without a single trace of Algebraic Formulae in your head. You have just, in that certain moment of you playing your Game Boy, successfully put all the problems behind you while you indulge in a temporary escape to free your mind.
Same applies to getting paranoid. You put that shit behind your ass, don't think about it (DON'T think to not think about it), and just squeeze yourself out of your narrow shell, and go outside. Inhale in fresh outdoor air, and laugh at the kid who fell off the swing, or help him. Both will be refreshing. Text someone you haven't text-ed for a while with a little extra enthusiasm and smileys. Meet new people, through the internet, or not. Try to learn a new trick on your skateboard, or earn yourself a new muscle sprain. Try that new oddly coloured drink you've been eye-ing at the Bazaar Ramadhan. Read some stuff. Create some stuff. Youtube some stuff.
The list is endless, put a plug on that paranoia plague :)