All Eyes on You

What bothers me the most about my social anxieties is that they always strike me as being incredibly arrogant. Not only do I feel that most, if not all, of the people in any given situation are taking diligent mental notes on my behavior, I feel as if these notes will prove to be so valuably accurate that they will be stored right in the front of the brain of these people for the rest of their (and my) lives.

Because I'm just so damn important.

I feel the same way about paranoia. Yes, you and I and the hermit living behind the CVS are all so important to the government that they spend billions of dollars tracking our every move, constructing elaborate conspiracies to trip us up and researching new technologies that will finally be able to read our minds.

Because I’m just so damn important.

I mean, if I were a government or even – especially – just an average individual, I would find myself to be so interesting and relevant that I would be hard pressed not to comb over every detail of my appearance, observe the subtle twitching in his left eyelid which obviously means I was out late last night blowing off whatever preparation for this event was necessary for me to do.

There’s a smudge on the back heel of your left shoe. It signals to the world your carelessness, your messiness, the cacophonous hodgepodgery that has replaced your neat and tidy mind. Everyone sees it. Because you’re just so damn important.

But I don’t notice it.

I’m worried about the small blemish that sprouted on my face, right beneath my right earlobe last night. They all think I'm unhygienic. They all think I can’t take care of myself, that I'm irresponsible and stupid.

Because I'm just so damn important.