There is a man who roams the streets of Manhattan (specifically Aggieville) at all hours of the day and night. He looks remarkably similar to that museum curator guy from Ghostbusters 2... short, slim, and curly hair that seems to form a sort of trapezoidal shape atop his pale, gaunt face. He strolls slowly, pausing only to stare into windows of local businesses (such as the one I work at). Occasionally, he comes in, sits in a chair and stares at indescript spots on the wall before continuing along his journey. Sometimes after work I walk past him, and discover that he is mumbling incoherently to himself.
Is this man sane? Perhaps. Some of us venture to guess that he may be (sadly) schizophrenic. This thought makes me wonder... how does one become schizophrenic? I know it is a psychological "disease" or what-have you... but, well, I don't know. Sometimes I myself notice two (or more) highly disjointed versions of myself. Is it only a matter of time before these two (or more) personalities break off from eachother, spinning wildly and uncontrollably in divergent directions, wreaking havoc on the singular body (mine) that they are both unlucky enough to inhabit?
Perhaps I'm just paranoid. If I ever end up missing, it's either because I went schizo and ran away, or I pissed off the creepy Aggieville roamer.
Like Reader's Digest for people who don't want to waste their time stalking me.
2 comments:
Listen, just cause my Dad pulls his sock over his jeans and wanders around the mall listening for the coming Armageddon, doesn't mean he's crazy, okay? OKAY!?
You are so...
... sad.
But I love you. I saw the Aggieville-walker again this evening. So weird. Honestly, though... I can't help but think he's sane... and just a little weird. Maybe he holds as much disdain for the human race as I do? Perhaps we might be able to connect on some deeper plane... were we ever to converse (which is doubtful).
Post a Comment