Let me
tell you something: I absolutely, unquestionably, indisputably, irrefutably hate the dark. Always have. It's my pet
paranoia, I suppose. My problem's always been this awful feeling that
something's gonna jump at me, or that something's just out of the circle of
light--yes, it's amazingly childish--and I only feel this way when I'm alone in
the dark for a prolonged amount of time. And I think I know why:
When I
was about six, I lived downstairs, and used a bathroom whose door, when opened,
had a view right through the office room to the shoe closet on the other side
of the house. Whenever I used that bathroom at night when I was little (I didn't close
the door back then cuz I'm a rebel like that), I remember I used to see an
enormously tall man standing across the house over in front of that shoe
closet. He would usually be facing me, even though I have a couple memories of
him walking past my line of sight. He was just a dark figure, no features.
I
distinctly remember not being afraid
of him. I guess I knew he wasn't real, and I was also too young to really be
scared of featureless figures lurking in my bathroom door. I really don't
remember, but I'm sure it went along the lines of this:
Because
I was friends with everything. That's
probably why I imagined a seven-foot tall dude to chill with.
After
this period of time, I forgot that I ever imagined stuff like that. It wasn't
until I was about fourteen or fifteen that I was in that same bathroom (with
the door closed this time) that I remembered Mr. Bathroom Man. After nearly ten
years of getting older and scareder of random scary things, he seemed a heck of
a lot more creepy. And there's always that split-second, horror-movie thought--"Did
I imagine him?!"
When you're alone in the same bathroom at night, the answer to that question is always the scarier one.
Another
example of how much I hate the dark is my bedtime routine. I keep my lights on
until I'm ready to fall asleep. When I do turn the lights off, I do a quick
eyeball of my bedroom from the stairs so I know what obstacles to not stab
myself on/fall over. Then I turn off the lights and take a flying leap from the
stairs to my bed, tear off the covers, and completely cover my entire self and
tuck the blankets under my head and body.
I jump,
because long ago, my mother told me that if you run in the dark because you
don't like it, your brain panics and thinks that something's chasing you. And
it's true. However, I make one exception. I have chickens far out on our
property, and in the wintertime, it's pitch black out when I feed them in the
evening. So I run back as fast as I can, because the snow is unnerving. My
flashlight's not really helpful when I run like a madman, so it's just flashing
everywhere.
I
always end up remembering what my mom said about my brain panicking, and as
soon as I do, my brain takes it as the go-ahead to panic. Every evil thing
under the sky is suddenly just outside of my circle of light.
Tell
you what, it's a heck of a workout in deep snow.
Like I
said, it's pretty terrible. I don't do very well with the dark, or pranks in
the dark, or things in the dark. I really don't even like being in the dark
with just a flashlight. If I'm with people, I'm fine. But something about being
alone…ugh. I hate it. I know it's not real, though, so it's a good source of
laughs, and good blogging material, yes? So don't be afraid of the dark.
Sweet
dreams.
--Sabrina
