Paranoia Quotes Novels & Stories

Because they didn't want to deal with me? All of my confidence just *poofs* into thin air along with my ability to recall memories, unless they are bad and are part of what's known as PTSD, or Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Anxiety creeps inside of my head and makes me a shell of a person. A person I don't like or want to be around, so why would anyone else? Paranoia always has an to that: they don't. The feeling of being at deaths door eases up little by little after about 15 minutes or so, just like Noah predicted.

“Precaution?” I nodded. “I’ve had bad dreams lately.” I tried a half-smile that didn’t quite make it. “Guess my paranoia got the better of me.” He stared at me like he was watching a badly acted play. Like he could partly see right through the curtain of my words. “Right,” he muttered. I shrugged. “Believe it or not, I’d rather feel stupid than unsafe.” He rolled his eyes and exhaled like he was already tired of this conversation. He walked a few steps away, then turned back suddenly.

He bellowed, not caring that his words might slip out of the house into the ears of passersby. Everyone of us stayed quiet, Wayne is right and we all know that. But, everyday that we get to wake up unscathed. It gives us hope that these life of ours might actually last forever. Still, our paranoid minds can't stop from reminding us of what might become of us in the next minute. My eyes blurred at the thoughts. It feels like my head would split into two. Dragging myself up to get probably another cup of coffee. I felt my feet move under me and I plunged into a hole of darkness.

Sebastian’s POV. Paranoia was a poison. It didn't kill you instantly, it just made everything taste like ash. It seeped into the marrow of your bones, turning every shadow into a threat and every silence into a lie. I had spent my entire life surrounded by people who wanted something from me, but I had never felt this specific, localized rot until now.

Whatever. But I had read it, skulking just inside the park entrance and probably looking like one of the junkies that queued up outside the drop-in centre in town. I'd love to have said it had been a riveting read, but there was nothing in the two-page glossy pamphlet that inspired me. Paranoia. Anxiety attacks. And the plot twist? Full-blown psychosis. The individual can lose touch with reality and experience visual and auditory hallucinations.

I found him near the outdoor training range, leaning against the stone wall with both hands braced like he needed them to hold himself up. “I get it,” I said gently. He didn’t look at me. “Do you?” “You’re scared.” He laughed—dry, humorless. “I’m paranoid. And the worst part? I’m not even sorry for it.” “You don’t have to be,” I said, stepping closer. “But you saw it. In my face. The way I spoke. That control, that pressure. It’s starting to crack.” “Maybe it’s not about control,” I offered. “Maybe it’s about… not wanting to lose more than you already have.”

She held her hands in her head and she continued sweeping her misfortunes, “And not to talk about his female crazed fans, I would definitely be out for my blood. Will I die?” “Ah!! I shouldn’t have gone through the woods. No! I shouldn’t have gone for vacation in the first place. Bad things happen when you rest and become idle. And an idle man is a devil's work shop.” Eliza sighed, leaned on the wardrobe door. “I am so paranoid, I am already quoting religious Proverbs.” “MY LIFE IS OVER” After minutes of wailing about her misfortune, Eliza remembered her all so brilliant idea back when she was in the woods.

I was waiting for some kind of reaction, something that could prove my paranoia right but Janet just stared at me with a confused expression, "It's not personal, I'm just saying you should be careful. She might not be here but she has eyes and ears everywhere." "Huh, I didn't know that." So I was right, there must be someone watching me. "And you really think I like Margot. If I had a chance I'd kill her myself, that bitch deserves a whole lot of pain." All I saw in Janet's eyes were anger and a thirst for revenge. Does that mean she's not the one? I closed my eyes and took in a deep breath. My paranoia was stressing me out, I didn't know who to trust or who to believe. I didn't even have co

Though I have not seen my mother in a decade, we now have something in common. Paranoia. The constant feeling of eyes on me is driving me to near madness. I am now doing things differently than I naturally would, reacting in other ways because the intense fear that he is watching me is always on my mind. Before I make a decision, something as simple as taking a sip of water, he pops into my head. Do I want to drink this in front of him?

I took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing thoughts, and wiped away the tears that had started to form on my cheeks without my permission. "Fuck," I muttered to myself, disgusted at my own weakness. "Talk about wasting my time for fucking bloody nothing," I muttered, but even as I said it, I knew it wasn't nothing. That meeting had changed something. Something was shifting, and I didn't know how to stop it. The elevator descended slowly, and with each floor, my paranoia grew. What if he was planning something with her? What if they were laughing at me right now? What if he was going to leave me the moment he got the chance?