I’m going to be real honest in this post. Like, reeeeeal honest. Abe Lincoln wouldn’t even know what to do with himself.
I recently asked a friend what his biggest fear was, knowing that yes, it was probably too personal of a question or not personal enough—that funny in between thing. After I typed the question, it kept running through my mind. Dear God, how many answers I have for that one. I’m what you would call, oh, I don’t know…..the biggest lily livered, always in a dither, anxious, I-don’t-want-to-take-the-risk kind of girl. It’d take me all day to answer a question regarding what my most feared parts of life are. I’m too scared to even fully answer the question (see what I mean?).
Besides watching horror movies through the cracks of my fingers and refusing to descend into my basement alone, there’s one thing that has always brought a sickening feeling to my stomach—the dark. I kid you not. You are probably laughing, and actually I am too, because it’s one of the silliest things about me. I have to have some sort of light on in my room before I go to bed. I have a reading light that I keep on until I feel okay about shutting it off. And then—the dark settles around me like a thick blanket. I have to shut my eyes immediately in order to cope with it, otherwise I’ll start seeing Monsters, Inc. creatures emerging from the closet. If my cat wasn’t always at the end of my bed to keep me company, I’d probably die of a heart attack.
But, (per usual), I’m going to take this a bit further—analyze it like I did chapters in my undergraduate Modern Short Story class. Why am I so utterly, teeth-chatteringly terrified of the dark? The kids I babysit for are decades younger and they laugh at me when I ask if they want a nightlight.
The dark, to me, is the unknown. I don’t know what the heck is lingering in it, and odds are you don’t either. I can’t stand the not knowing, and the swiftness of my heart paired with the sweaty palms lets me know just how scared I am of it. When I don the turban and sit down in front of my crystal ball, I can barely breathe, because I don’t see a thing. I don’t know what’s coming for me, who’s out there at this very moment that will one day become my very reason for existing. I couldn’t tell you what’s going to happen to you or I or the rest of the world in the next few days, and, Mother of God, that’s the scariest thing I can think of. So, you see? I don’t think being scared of the dark is as irrational as it sounds. (The basement, well, that’s another story…)
I think it’s safe to say we’re all scared of the dark, to some extent. Maybe you’re not greeted with anxiety attacks like I am, but I’d bet you’re not at your most comfortable, are you?