I have this weird paranoid version of solipsism. It involves the classic view of oneself as a "special case," but in my pathos I'm not the Queen of Everything. Far from it. Sometimes, I just have to wonder: am I a really fragile sociopath who people are nice to out of a mixture of fear and pity?

My next door neighbor, Peppermint Patty, is peanut butter. Everyone thinks she's wacko-- our other neighbors, the apartment manager-- and my 5 foot 11 roommate triple locks the door every night becase, in his words, "She's the type that really would come after you with an axe." I avoid her when possible, but when I do see her I'm polite and civil. I didn't snap at her once when she cornered me in the building washroom and instructed me on the proper washing of my clothes. ("Oops, watch out, you dropped your panties.") Does she know people think she's wacko, or does everyone cover it up too well? How do I know I don't live in a world where everyone lives in fear of my crazy messed up reactive personality? Perhaps I'm so crazy I can't read people at all, like her.

Just the fact that I'm in med school doesn't mean I'm free of social pathology... in fact, that's one of the reasons I worry. My classmates are, for the most part, a goodie bag of personality disorders. On some level a lot of people are here to balance their shortcomings with the second half of a sentence. Example: "You may be __________ (crazy, ugly, uncouth, unfunny, a broccoli head), but you are a doctor... okay, let's have sex!" Anyway, so there are a lot of crazies here. Maybe I'm so crazy I can't tell. Maybe they're all gonna laugh at me!

This is what happens late at night after studying all day. I need to stop being such a broccoli head.