Paranoia, paranoia, they're coming to get me.

They’re coming to get me. I think.

See, the way it works is at times I feel like I’m starting to lose my mind. The first time I felt really, truly paranoid, I didn’t think it was a big deal. Years later, I’m realizing that maybe I’ve picked up some residual nonsense from being in the Army. Allow me to recap my few, but silly, moments of worry:

The first time I can remember taking evasive actions I was on a date with a girl I’d call…Crazy. I’m not sure what her name is anymore; this was back in 2006 I think. So I’ll just reference her as Stephanie.
Stephanie and I met in the Netherlands at a club during Carnival, a European bacchanal style week of bizarre costumes, carts of beer, and debauchery. Dressed as a Mexicantje (little Mexican) with a furry cowboy hat, a poncho, and a fake chrome six shooter I was living it up in some club where the music pulsed between raging techno and obnoxious polka. Between rounds of tiny beer slamming and shouting nonsense I ran into a girl dressed like a little cowgirl. We chatted, she played with my gun, and I left with her number. A week or so later she picked me up from a location near my apartment.
I’m not sure at what point we decided it would be a good idea to drive to her stables (wtf?) and visit her horse. (A side note: I hate horses. As a child I’d repeatedly be brought to horse…places, and forced to ride them by my parents. Each and every time I can recall I was kicked. The last time I was promised it wouldn’t happen again. And while on a horse, another horse kicked me. So I hate them. Passionately.) Due to my disdain for horses the event was less than pleasant. And my jokes about eating them didn’t go over too well. But she seemed indifferent, as the more I realized, crazy. Her train of thought didn’t move in ways I was familiar with, or understood. She seemed to be in love with her horse. I know this because a few times she told her horse, in Dutch, that she loved it. And her affection was legitimate. I was clearly disturbed.
When she dropped me off in my village I told her to let me off at a random street, claiming a building I’d never seen before to be my home. Then I walked for 3 blocks, doing random surveillance detection routes (SDRs) to ensure she had no idea where I lived. At the time, I thought it was normal.

The second time was more recently. A couple of weeks ago I went out in the mid afternoon with a friend to grab some food. We met up with a few other friends and had a late lunch. An hour or so later, I left. In the parking lot I observed a man, early twenties, sitting in a gold colored Crown Victoria. Watching me. Observing my movements, and possibly writing them down. I jumped into my car and queued some music while watching him in my side mirror. He continued to stare. So when I left the parking lot it wasn’t very surprising to me that his engine started and he also left the parking lot. Having a small, fast, foreign car with some mystery performance exhaust has its benefits, so I quickly darted onto the street while watching his car. When he turned to follow, I gunned it past two more side streets, made a quick right, hand braked a u-turn, and parked so I could watch. And I waited. And waited. 5 minutes later, I slowly drove forward and looked down the street. And there was no car following me. No purpose to my irrational thought.

Just a few days ago I had a date and I wasn’t sure why, but I wanted to bring a knife. Something about it seemed…Suspect. I would have actually brought the knife, a nice spring loaded Gerber my father sent me, but I completely forgot as I was writing down directions. But the rampant paranoia made me realize that there is something growing inside of me which keeps making me feel crazy. Suspicious. Worried. Paranoid. Made me think about the other times. Made me wonder when the next time will be.

Then again…It’s only paranoia if they’re not after me.