If I seem a little non-talkative...

[Cain]

You can at least take some solace in that you recognize what is going on.  That's definitely a good sign.

It's when you don't realise it that it becomes the problem, as you know all too well.

[The Good Reverend Roger]

You can at least take some solace in that you recognize what is going on.  That's definitely a good sign.

It's when you don't realise it that it becomes the problem, as you know all too well.

Yeah.  Bad times.

[The Good Reverend Roger]

Roger, feel free to hit me up on PM's if you need to talk it out. I remember the paranoia I was in a couple years ago. Its not a good place. Imma second what Eve said about recognising the pattern, it's half the battle.

Thanks.

[Eater of Clowns]

Sorry to hear that, Roger.

I'm totally a plotting hyena, though.  Not against you, but yeah, always plotting, always with the sinister laugh.

Oh, and my matriarch has a vestigial penis.

We're still on for carrion and cackling at lost caravan travelers tomorrow, right?

Hmm I'll be up late crying into the night in hopes a woman will give birth to a thief, so maybe later in the day.  They're always more despairing when the sun is high anyway.

EoC, I'm so sorry to hear about your matriarch's penis.

Don't feel too bad, she wasn't missing it like Whoopie Goldberg.

[Mesozoic Mister Nigel]

Aw. I hope this passes reasonably quickly.

[President Television]

I hear you, Rog. I've been in a pretty bad place too lately, though my problem is more that I seem to have lost the ability to laugh.
Here's hoping we both get over it.

[EK WAFFLR]

You are a truly excellent man from what little I know of you, and I hope you'll get better soon!

[Luna]

Hang in there, man, and call or PM if you feel the need.

[Cainad (dec.)]

Get better quick, Rog. No one else has the training or skills needed to keep the Mind Lazors properly calibrated. Next thing you know we'll be all forming our own opinions and shit.

Oh, and that whole "I hope you feel better because I think you're awesome and deserve to have a good time, regardless of what your biology thinks" thing. That too.

[Nephew Twiddleton]

WOMP for your entertainment forthcoming. Got side tracked tonight.

[BadBeast]

I know how you feel Rog. I had a horrendously epic Paranoid episode when I was about 20. Totally self induced, but quite a ride. It started off in a Dairy, with a little skinny Lancashire Biker, and 350 Durophet tablets. And wound up 8 days later, with me hiding in a big wardrobe, laid on the floor in the dark.

Being in the dark, made me notice the flashes whenever the secret cameras hidden in the drywall (I think) took a picture. Then dead rock stars began walking through the walls, stopping for a quick "Hello" and floating away again. Jim Morrisson. Hendrix. Sid. Gene Vincent. And the thing is, I wasn't fazed because it all seemed so everyday and normal for that to happen.

Then I heard boots coming up the stairs, and I knew they'd found me. They stopped outside my door, and I heard a voice say "Shall we wait for him to come out, or shall we kick the door in?"

I looked through the crack under the door, and saw two pairs of shiny black boots. They were very military looking. So I climbed out of the window, risking getting torn apart by the mob. Who had luckily vanished by then. (It was about 3am) It all seemed so . . . . . . real?

I was hallucinating my head off for about 4 days, but it wasn't like I'd taken acid. If it was I could have said to myself "It's just the acid, I'll be fine in a few hours". Turned out I'd been steadily descending into amphetamine psychosis for days. No-one fucking warned me about that shit! It's nostalgic to look back at it now, 25 years later, but fucking hell, I thought I'd totally permanently fried my brain.

Someone had tried at some point (Day 5) to bring me back down to Earth with Temazepam and Scotch. Apparently I was very drunk, insensibly drunk, no limbic function to speak of, just spastic twitches, from the imaginary electric shock therapy I wasn't really getting. 

However, I still had 3 hippopotamus sized doses of speed coursing around in my system. So I was trying to speak at 300 miles an hour, but my poor tongue was too drunk to make words. I'm told was like a frothy Pentecostal, with cerebral palsy, in full "Speaking in tongues" epiphany mode. For 10 hours.

So Day 6 found me wrapped in a curtain in a neighbour's kitchen, at dawn, with 2 empty Chivas Regal bottles. (I know! I must have     been quite far gone to merit Chivas) So I ducked out. Things were a bit hectic in town, I was getting stalked by pigeons, and insulted by seagulls.

Next thing I know, It's a day and a half later, and I'm in a dark wooden box. At first I thought I'd been buried. But the coat-hangers I'd been using for a pillow gave it away. But I felt better.  I'd like to be able to say I learned something valuable from the whole experience. Like "And I never took speed again" but I can't.

I did learn that Paranoia can be a fun place to visit for an afternoons light tripping. But you don't want to be going Native there. Or even miss your Bus home. (Or I don't.) I'm so truly thankful that I didn't end up coming to the attention of any Medical Professional during those days.

"We will destroy those enemies, but we must first know the enemies.
And the enemies are the Devils, that hide in our minds, and make us less than happy."     

[The Good Reverend Roger]

Mine's not as cool as that.  Some time ago, I got a virus that hung around just long enough to chew up part of my brain, and made me stone paranoid (alongside other delusions).  It eventually eased off, with a little help from Big Pharma.

Every once in a while I get little relapses.

[Nephew Twiddleton]

Roger, I've come to uncover a plot against you. It's masterminded by none other than me.

But it seems like it's a flawless plan so I don't mind telling you about it.

[Cramulus]

(wow I haven't used two potds in one day in a lonnnng time)

[The Good Reverend Roger]

Wooooooooow!   

Twid, you have made my day.