Dear Scary Show That I Cannot Watch Again

You are a clever show, but after five episodes, I went to bed terrified. I tried to tell myself I wasn't scared and I even fell asleep. However, about four hours later, I woke up to the sound of three rhythmic taps. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't have thought too much about the noise. I would have convinced myself that it was just some odd knock on one of the apartment doors in my building or something that fell and bounced twice. But five hours of serial killers, dismembered bodies, blood and swears, and what was a normal nocturnal interruption turned into the firm belief that there was a murderer lying in wait under my bed.

I tried to talk myself down from the fear of impending death. I reasoned that since I had been home sick in bed all weekend, the likelihood that someone had snuck into my home and placed themselves under my bed for what would amount to roughly 63 hours, was pretty slim. And yet...

Terror. I was in terror.

I took some deep breaths and listened to the silence. I could not hear breathing. Not one other noise was present. "It was just a TV show," I told myself. Myself was not persuasive and my subconscious was already on the horror train, as I now noticed that my blankets were wrapped around me burrito style. Apparently dreams of mayhem tormented me into a twisted mess. I declared myself ridiculous and ordered an immediate growing up mandate.

I then attempted to untwist the blankets. The light from my apartment complex parking lot shone perfectly on the raised sheets in such a pattern that instantly paralyzed me. I was certain that the light was like that black light the police in the show put on objects to see if there was blood. The patterns I saw confirmed that someone had been murdered, IN THIS VERY BED!

I was now wide awake. I tried to remember, again, that I was alone and safe and not in the clutches of a serial killer. I did eventually go back to sleep, but it took me four days to sleep soundly and unafraid of certain death.

It is for these reasons, then, that I cannot watch you, dear show.  I try to toughen up but I cannot handle the killings.

Also I don't think it is healthy that I completely identify with the feelings of that serial killer. Er, I mean, also it is really scary.

And I refuse to look under my bed.

me

Dear Reminder to Me

Hey. Try to remember:

There will be enough; enough time, enough love, enough olives. There will be enough.

me
you
we?