Paranoia

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Do you ever feel that people are talking about you at school? Or out to get you?

Sometimes I feel like my entire day at school is consumed by the thoughts of what other kids are thinking of me. I can't focus on my school work. Sometimes I fall into depression. Like if I am wearing a skirt and I hear a girl say, "she looks bad", I assume they are talking about me and I think about it for the rest of the day and I keep pondering/worrying about it to the point I get a headache and back pain. I will run to teachers and ask them, but I often feel like I'm "annoying" them with my thoughts/feelings. My family doesn't understand my anxiety.

I'm just wondering how you guys cope with anxiety/paranoia and depression?

Aspies get picked on a lot growing up. So we tend to get a little paranoid that way-that folks are talking about us.

But the fact is that you are not as important as you think you are. Folks may indeed talk about you behind your back occasionally, but not as often as you think that they do. I they do talk about other people behind their backs as well.

I've always possessed a cloying and cavernous cocoon of paranoid particles confronting and assailing my fragile tightrope tapdance of existence.. right now it's a heady barrel of insolent laughter containing ingredients such as- how do I prevent demonic entities peeking in at me from a corner of my mind I wonder if I pierced a hole in by anticipating their presence, the government peering at me with their leashed minions the suited sycophants posing as café customers to see whether I was going to follow through in any substantially slanderous manner upon my researching of mI6's various clandestine operations against we the people pyramid, they suspected that I was fanning the flames of an uplifting uprising but instead I went home and played some frogger. I didn't see any frogs in the river yesterday but I did stumble across a potentially threatening clearing alongside it, an inflated sense of dread sailed with me on the throttling winds of those demonic harbingers who ambitiously lurk underneath edges of objects and adjust the cracks in the surfaces that it very well could be that a trio of witch's have claimed that rippling patch of woods as their own. I unfortunately notified them of my noble intentions earlier on when I fatefully obeyed a cryptically delivered command to return to the befouled location. I incompetently disturbed those obscurely collapsed and gleefully brittle branch-bouquets which I swear had manifested overnight. I decided to smash and jab my way through this formidable barrier and retrieve the secret I had been chosen to reveal. I have been bestowed a wooden spoon without running a race. Maybe I'm finally paying a tremendously expensive toll for my interfering with the powers that belong to themselves. Perchance those witches of watchful wrath were waiting for some blundering fool to trundle into their off the beaten path den of dingyness and make a wrong step... I believed I was immune but every man can not live up to immaculate calculations. I have several scratches along my thighs and ankles and there is redness, my god is it spreading, do I have twig induced sepsis from exotic thorny fauna I encountered, maybe the heathen-hags that potentially inhabit that dubious section of trees ensured that the plants are pulsating with the pleasure of plying trespassers with a rather radical curse and now I daren't look in the mirror or that being I always feared will speak its way into my connection to the between and I won't accept it. Oh I also look behind me every three minutes when strolling on my sundown inspections of wherever my late night feet take me as I never stop trying to understand murder cases, I also think chimneys are gonna break my spine when I'm minding my own business-finito