Followed

I could almost feel him following me. His steps were mirroring my own with a precise accuracy that had my paranoia not reached an inferno i would not have normally noticed him trailing me. The dark dismal streets of this damp and deserted city add an overall feeling to the pursuit that does not shine well with my inner calm. As my mind rolls over on these self-indulgent issues i forget to make a plan of action. The strangers of these streets are slowly disappearing, therefore, as are my chances of avoiding a confrontation. I take a sharp left turn into an even darker alley way. Before my follower can get to the alley, i run with a silent step down to the dumpster at the bottom of this wet path. As i crouch behind this smelly plastic bin all i can hear is the drip, drip, drip of the nights rain on the small puddles created in this bleak street and of course the tap, tap, tap rythmn of my watcher's step. The constant, unwaivering beat of my heart keeping time with the constant, unwaivering beat of his pursuit. I reach into my pocket and ready my pistol for action. I can hear the steps getting louder, getting closer. Closer to death? I hope not. I sit with my eyes closed, talking to God in my head, asking him to sit this one out as i attempt to do what i thought i would never have to face. I can't take this any longer and i burst out from the behind the dumpster and push my pistol-weilding arm out into the air, into the action, ready to defend myself against my punisher. But all i see is nothing. As i lower my aim from nothingness to my side, i wonder - how thin is the line between paranoia and reality? How will i know what is true, and what is fake? What is the difference between the murderous, evil mind of my followers and that of my own bruised and fragile mind?