Still freaking out, kinda.
2001-06-20 12:31 p.m.
So, yeah. I wrote an entry Monday, and took it down six hours later. My reasoning was that I sounded like a raving looney, and I didn't want people to see me like that. That made me feel better at the time, but after a few more days of thinking, I felt kinda weaselly about it. For better or worse, that entry was real. I can't go editing my history, just because I don't like it. So, honesty. If you care to click that "previous" button you can once again see me in the throes of a full blown panic attack. Woohoo!That's what it was, too. After writing that, D. woke up, and I offered to drive to the store for dinner. I saw three cop cars. One of them followed me for three blocks. I kept my eye glued to the spedometer. I panicked every time I saw myself going 26. That's no way to live, I told myself, but I couldn't calm down. I was completely paralyzed with terror, from seeing a few cop cars. I went home. I cooked dinner. D. assured me several times that cops don't make arrests by leaving business cards. If it was anything serious, he'd have at least called, or left an actual note, asking me to call him back. D's theory was that the cards were probably all over town. Some sort of "Get to Know Your Local Law Enforcement" program. Then, he said that he'd found a card a week ago, and just threw it in the junk drawer without telling me because he'd known it would freak me out. He pointed out that no one had called since then, angry because we hadn't responded immediately. He also said that this was before we got the incense burner, so whatever it was, it wasn't us getting busted for incense again. I felt a little better. We fell asleep, and when I woke up to take him to work, I felt a lot better. That was about when I started to wonder what sort of a crack monkey freak I was, letting a little business card get to me like this. I wondered for the first time if maybe what I'd felt was one of those panic attacks that are supposedly one of the only real drawbacks to prolonged herbage abuse. Whatever it was, it sucked, a lot. I decided to take down that entry where I sounded like a raving paranoid. I mentioned the cards to a couple people. No one else got one. The general consensus was "Wow. That's pretty fucked up." Dante advised me to call. I did that four hours ago. I'm still waiting for Sarge B. to return my call. I'm a little nervous, but not paralysingly so. Just now, I checked my e-mail, and found a lot of sane advice from Dumbass, which helped too. I hope it doesn't come to the point where I need to follow up on any of it, but it's good to know that in my half-assed way, I'd already thought of most of it. More on this story as it develops...
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