delusions of grandeur

This is a tester -

The desire to be cynical is something I often experience, a necessity to overcoming the harsh reality that eventually, I will be disappointed. Similar to that of when you reach into your sock drawer, in hope of pulling out matching socks with the idea that you don’t really care, only to be slightly put out when you retrieve your hand with one blue, and one black. Close, but not quite right. However, those vexatious afterthoughts of what-could-have-been can be startling in how much they really do affect you, somewhat similar to a world of dystopia. So much so in fact that these thoughts become an appetiser for the ultimate downfall, where after that tragic misfortune, you end up here, where I have found myself at present.
I deem it an appropriate place for someone like myself, though I’m not quite sure I should.
Is it wrong to enjoy it here?
With these bleached tiled floors and a required attire of white with accompanying white plush slippers with ‘One step and a time’ embroidered across the front in a cursive font.
Was that phrase of help saying something?
I think so. Although, as usual I could just find myself once again in an over-analytical state.
Where is my medication, nurse?

* * *

Recently, I have discovered that I have been lacking in a well-adjusted reality. I’m not quite sure why, though I have sought out certain assertions as to why I may have come to such a conclusion. My primary understanding of this sequitur has come from those who are here with me. I feel that my level of caliber compared to these others is posing as a peril, which I fear, is going to act as an ever-creasing threat to my independence unless I do something soon.