February 8        

Dear Diary,

The feeling is getting worse. Do you know the feeling of when you’re waiting in your doctor's office, sitting patiently on cheap tissue paper? The urge to rummage through the cabinets and touch every piece of equipment, but you don't. Maybe because it's the right thing to do, or maybe because they're watching. The camera is in the corner of the ceiling, glaring at me, analyzing the way I crack my knuckles. It’s as if I'm being observed like prey. I don’t exactly know who is watching, but I just know there's someone, or maybe something. 

The feeling creeps up on me randomly. Imagine it like a shadow, following me everywhere. Similarly, it appears and disappears throughout the day. Almost as if it’s taunting me. It feels threatening and uneasy. The hairs on my arms rise when I feel unknown eyes watching me, lurking somewhere out of my sight. 

I felt the eyes on me today. I wanted to stop by the local coffee shop around the corner from my work. Booming with business, the coffee shop is always crammed with sleep-deprived individuals, like me. Anyways, I waited in the tedious line for my usual. An espresso paired with a buttered croissant. The line continued to move up and I felt normal, nothing out of the ordinary. Fortunately, I was finally next in line. I grabbed my small espresso along with my buttered croissant and was about to be on my way. Then the feeling sneaked up on me. Eyes everywhere, were they all watching me? Did the lady over there just see me fiddling with my pastry bag? Is that person staring at my beat-up Converse? I knew I should’ve worn my nice shoes today. I sensed the hairs on my arms starting to rise and my breathing starting to get shakier. Are they still watching me? That's when I started to go in circles, trying to catch anybody looking my way. Instead, this caused more eyes to go on me. I felt trapped. I was losing a grip on reality and my paranoia was strangling me, but then I started to lose a grip on my small espresso and pastry bag. In the middle of the commotion, my newly purchased espresso and croissant slipped out of my sweaty, shaky palms, falling onto the gray tiled floor. Now, this caused all eyes on me. Like a coward, I shoved my way out and pushed through the door with eyes burning into my back. Once outside, the feeling dies down and I catch a whirl of fresh air instead of the coffee-bean-contaminated air. I walked back to my car in embarrassment.

After the chaos, I didn’t have the time to think about how a catastrophe could occur so randomly and spiral out of control in a matter of seconds. I don’t think I can continue to live with the delusions, but what do I do? Am I supposed to confide in someone and hope they can believe me? How do I bring up that there are eyes always watching me, observing my life? Nobody will understand what is happening to me, but hopefully, you can. If I express this to someone, they will believe I’m delusional. Going to a therapist isn’t an option either. I’d rather be free and able to outrun the watching eyes, than stuck in a hospital, trapped with the eyes. Someone has to help me hide from them.

Until next time,

Anonymous.