I have been wanting to do a confessional like this for a while, and I figured now is a perfect time. As usual, what I am about to tell you is rather personal and kind of embarrassing. So, I ask that you keep an open mind and don’t judge me. Thank you.
If you ask my dear friend Shiloh, who has known me since I was 12, she will tell you that I am a wimp. That is an understatement.
Here is the thing, I love horror. I love messed up movies, games and anime such as Danganronpa, Future Diary and Perfect Blue. I also love reading about disturbing real life murders and legends such as Elizabeth Báthory. You know, The Blood Countess? The Hungarian Countess who had many young girls killed so she could bathe in their blood, as she believed that it would help her live forever? Google it, it is morbid but rather interesting.
While I love all of this macabre stuff, I can’t handle it. I spend so much time studying sinister stories that I can’t sleep. Honestly, I think this might be one of the reasons why I don’t sleep as much as I should. I keep having rather disturbing nightmares. Even If I haven’t read anything frightening during the day. Normally, these dreams don’t scare me. However, they keep me up at night as I question everything.
Do you see my problem?
If you read my Blair Witch ramble you will know that I get scared really easily. Shiloh had to hold back her laughter as I screamed at every jump-scare. As a child, I wasn’t really scared of anything. I was a wee badass. However, as I got older I became a chicken. I have no idea why.
More recently, there was a PS4 VR experience in town, so I went along. I did this deep sea one that ended with a shark attacking the cage and eating me. At least, that what would have happened if I hadn’t begged the woman operating it to turn it off because I couldn’t handle it. I love sharks, but I was shaking so much I could barely stand. I must have looked like I was drunk, staggering around the place.
During the experience, two conflicting outlooks were swimming around in my head. My rational side was telling me “Sharks don’t attack these cages in real life, besides this is all fake” unfortunately it was drowned out by my wimp side screaming “HOLY SHIT! IT HAS BLOOD SMEARED OVER ITS MOUTH! I’M GOING TO FREAKING DIE! GO AWAY, JAWS!”
While I’m confessing how badly I react to horror games, I can’t handle Five Nights at Freddy’s. I keep trying to play that damn game but the best I can do is up to the third night. I don’t like puppets and I don’t like jump-scares. On top of that, I hate Bonnie. That animatronic freaks me out more than any of the others. I don’t know why it just does.
One time I was playing FNAF and, I’m not joking, when the power cut out in the game there was a blackout in my house. I was freaking out. The only light left was from my laptop. There was a bang on my bedroom door and it creaked open. I didn’t know whether or not to look away from my screen. I tore my eyes away only to see two green eyes staring back at me. I was hysterical at this point. After Freddy killed me the eyes got closer. Then I felt something brush against my leg.
It was my cat, Wilbur.
I felt like such an idiot. How could I forget that he has a habit of hitting my door open when he is lonely. Part of me was embarrassed, the other half couldn’t stop laughing.
My love of Japanese ghost stories hasn’t helped matters either. You see, I live near a train station and around this time of year, it gets dark in Scotland really fast. So whenever I come home rather late I can’t help but think of Teke-Teke. Unless I’m talking to someone on the phone, I sprint home.
There is another story which claims that once you read it you will be visited in your bathroom at night within a month. After I read it, for a month I made sure only to go to the loo during the day. I know, it’s stupid. To be fair, I am stupid too.
Speaking of toilets, I honestly won’t go into the third stall even if it’s the only one left. While at high school I would always drag Shiloh to the loo with me, because I was scared that Hanako-san would get me. I got over it later on, but it became a habit of ours.
Shiloh and I both have an interest in the sinister, the only difference is that she has a stomach for it. Heck, I used to refer to her room as a shrine to the occult. With dolls that freaked me out and rather gory posters. Still, she is one of the few people who doesn’t judge me or my interests. Much.
She taught me a lot about mythology and folklore. She is a dear friend, I don’t think I would have become the person I am today without her. She was there for me during some pretty bad times. Even today she continues to motivate me with some advice and a laugh. She is practically my psychiatrist.
As a way of saying thank you, I dedicate this ramble to you, Shiloh!