Fear
I’ve lost my fear. I always wondered why, and how, adults are less scared in general than children. Sure, they’re just smarter and aware that monsters might really not exist. But what about just being alone? Hearing strange noises? The unexplained? The answer is boredom.
I realize I’m no longer scared alone because if something strange and bizarre did happen, that might not be so bad. Sure, I might have the shit scared out of me, but adults have come to terms with the passage of time, and everything passes. If I didn’t die of something, which I would have no control over anyway, then it would pass and everything would be cool. Actually, it might just be exciting to see some crazy shit like an alien or chupacabra. Would be a nice conversation piece.
I’m sick of being scared. Tired of being anxious, so I’ve welcomed the thought of something frightening. My fear itself convinced me to believe in monsters and ghosts. Now I almost want something to happen just to confirm my beliefs, rather than a constant, but unsure, disenchantment. I’ve become a blasé adult that doesn’t mind sleeping alone because my boredom has overcome my fear. I kinda want my fear back.
PS I was probably an overly superstitious child. When I would brush my teeth, I'd have to look behind me, because I realized if there was a vampire in the room, I wouldn't be able to see his reflection in the mirror. How's that for over-thinking fiction.
I realize I’m no longer scared alone because if something strange and bizarre did happen, that might not be so bad. Sure, I might have the shit scared out of me, but adults have come to terms with the passage of time, and everything passes. If I didn’t die of something, which I would have no control over anyway, then it would pass and everything would be cool. Actually, it might just be exciting to see some crazy shit like an alien or chupacabra. Would be a nice conversation piece.
I’m sick of being scared. Tired of being anxious, so I’ve welcomed the thought of something frightening. My fear itself convinced me to believe in monsters and ghosts. Now I almost want something to happen just to confirm my beliefs, rather than a constant, but unsure, disenchantment. I’ve become a blasé adult that doesn’t mind sleeping alone because my boredom has overcome my fear. I kinda want my fear back.
PS I was probably an overly superstitious child. When I would brush my teeth, I'd have to look behind me, because I realized if there was a vampire in the room, I wouldn't be able to see his reflection in the mirror. How's that for over-thinking fiction.
