Zone eleven: Alone at night beckons paranoia

Yes, let's be depressing. I'm writing this in the early hours of Sunday morning in between late night emails with a few friends. This is unintentional as my original intention was to write some comedy (I'm at my best and my most alert at night).

I have a presentation to give on Monday morning in front of 25 people. Yes that is a small number but they're all looking at you. And you have to talk without stuttering, remembering how to form sentences, trying not to sweat and trying not to make eye contact as in reality this is a normal, functional, human device to service interaction but in this situation is out-of-this-world weird. I have people and deadlines and life in general pondering on my mind at night which is the worst time to do so. You're doing nothing else. You're trying to get to sleep but whilst in the process of doing so your mind is empty and as such is vulnerable to a strike of paranoia or idiocy. A noise you heard during the day repeatedly plays in your head. You make up a story involving the man and woman you saw in the street. What would have happened had I not have bought this sandwich? The entire future would be distorted beyond my human imagination. My existence would be questioned.

And now you've ruined your one chance to get off to sleep. The mention of existence brings up the religion discussion. Now religion at a time like this is Hell. Do not start questioning this at your most vulnerable. You will actually damage your brain. It will be scarred for life.

Going to bed and not being able to sleep keeps my paranoia alive. I'm paranoid that I'm being too paranoid.

And overthinking I've discovered is one of the worst things you can do. You think by looking at every angle you'll come to a solution. Actually, you have just opened many doors for the paranoia to slide in. Think of paranoia as a burglar. And you've gone to bed or left the house with the doors not unlocked but open. You are a fire while the paranoia is water, having splashed your embers into submission or in fact is a huge cauldron of petrol and has just abused you by using you to become a brief, large, vicious flame and after the spectacle have died from the lack of oxygen. Either way, you, the fire, get hurt in the process. I find that randomness can distract you from reality sometimes. I'm currently listening to some 1920's jazz. No, really.

Sleep well, but don't let me distract you.