Assimilation Complete

I resisted I really did.

When my landlord's niece left her skitty cat and its kitten with him in March because she couldn't keep them any more I remained calm and dignified.

When they wouldn't let any other humans but me anywhere near them I was only patting them to help them get used to people so they would move into my landlord's flat out of the cold.

When I dosed them with flea gel and worming paste it was only because nobody likes having fleas or worms.

When I started applying white zinc cream to their ears and noses every morning so they wouldn't get white kitty skin cancer it was only because I had this white zinc I wasn't using.

When they started sleeping inside my flat every night since June it was only because they somehow got inside and it seemed cruel to kick them out when they were asleep on my bed.

When I finally asked my landlord if I could keep them this week it was only because I was in denial and have been pretending I haven't technically been owned by them all year.

So, yeah, now I own two cats.

And am either really good at rationalising or really bad at reality.

Behold My Secret Glory!

When you start to see the same handful of people popping up in different streets, different towns, different states, you start to understand how paranoids can believe they're living in their own Truman Show.
When they pop up in different countries you start worrying that you might be becoming a bit 'conspiracy theory' yourself.

It also plays wonderfully to your sense of self-importance. There's no apparent reason why these people should be following you so there must be something extraordinary about you that you just don't know about.

One wrong step later and you've got yourself convinced that you're the next Jesus Christ/Harry Potter/poor-goat-herd-turned-royalty, have attracted a devoted following in California and are able to live off the donations of the faithful before they become distracted by something shiny and scatter like startled chickens.

Broke, listless, alienated from former acquaintances due to their refusal to believe you the Messiah/a wizard/their liege, living in a cardboard box, you will at least be able to comfort yourself with the assurance that something is bound to happen sooner or later because this is your story and you are special and, like John Connor, you will rise from the rubble!