I am creeping.
I am a cancer.
I am a pox.

Throughout each of your days, I am there. I am waiting for every potential slip-up, every look behind your back, every whisper in your ears. I am there when you think you're free.

I am hooded.
I am crawling.
I am powerful.

Just how powerful am I? I can create false planes of existence only YOU can see. The beauty of my craft is that each person I infect suffers catastrophically, but I am meticulous. I only corrupt one victim at a time. That way the entire world thinks he is insane and sick. But it was all me.

I am feared.
I am respected.
I am delusional.

Even the writer writing this down has had my teeth sink into him. I have convinced him time and time again that there are ticks in his hair, parasites under his skin, murderers outside his door, atom bombs waiting to explode. I know his weaknesses each time I swallow him into my world of darkness. He is waiting for me every day. And I am waiting for him. And I am waiting for you.

I am hatred.
I am insecurity.
I am Paranoia.