All In My Head

I’m laying here in my living room. I finally graduated from the floor and moved up to the couch. Still too scared to go sleep in my room. And I can’t stop thinking. Thinking about how I gave the cab driver my address that night, so now he knows where I live. Maybe the guy that let me use his phone followed me home. Maybe the cop had something to do with it. Any and every scenario I’ve imagined. It never stops. A continuous cycle of torturing myself. But hey, at least after a week, I’m not sleeping on the floor anymore.