When I was a kid we moved from the west coast to Atlanta for a year and half. That first summer was a weird one. I was in the first grade. That summer I had what I call my schizophrenic episode. I firmly believed that two men were following me and trying to assassinate me. So I would run past windows and doorways saying "whew they almost got me". At night I would sleep on the floor in the hallways or under my bed because I was convinced they were trying to crawl into my window to kill me. This would piss my dad off to no end. He would yell at me to stop being weird and that he paid a lot of money for my bed. Over the next few years I added a litany of paranoia's and things I was scared of. These included bathrooms, particularly the sound of toilets flushing, mirrors (after seeing Canydman with my cousin), people in wheelchairs, tampons, Mexicans, and the fear of being kidnapped to name a few. I was four feet and 10 inches of neuroses for most of my childhood. Now as an adult I realized most of these fears revolved around some type of stress, usually dealing with a move. I moved over 12 times between the ages of 7 and 15. The legacy of this is that I probably wouldn't even recognize "home" if it was staring me in the face. I'm always packing up looking for a place. I could have found it and left it a long time ago. I guess I'll never know.
