we are supermodern we are retroactive we are automatons
we are individuals we are whispers we are all you hear.

Thursday, April 30, 2009

This Little Piggy Goes to Market; This Little Piggy Brings Us Death

There is a sliding door in my father's new house. It opens to bathroom #0.5 on the first floor, which is essentially a white closet with a toilet, a sink, and a mirror. The other night I was brushing my teeth to a song when I glanced behind my right shoulder in the mirror. At the doorway. Beside the sliding door and the inside of the wall was a deep black space. I froze, my mind panicking for a very brief moment, then I relaxed. I got curious, and turned around to look into the darkness, unsure what lay at the back of the tiny crevice. I could not break the darkness. Fear wrapped a fist around my gut and I quickly turned back to the sink, averting my gaze from the harmless blackness of the door's home away from closed. I do not know why I was afraid then, but I do not think I will gaze into that hole again tonight.

I do not ever feel comfortable swimming in dark or especially deep water. I have an irrational fear of sea monsters. You may be hovering over that comment link, ready to say "No, Will! Sea monsters is a totally rational fear!" but I am disappointed to say that it is not so. Simply put, sea monsters do not exist. There are no giant water serpents or carnivorous, many-tentacled beasts swimming through the depths of the Lake Pollutario or the Larry River. However, I am still afraid of these dangerous creatures ripping me from the surface I so avidly doggie-paddle across. Whenever I think about these deep waters, I see my face as one of the aquatic beings drag me under and it is not a pretty sight. My mouth is open in a vacuous "AHHHHHH!" and my eyes are popping too far out of their sockets, my pupils tight with fear. I watch as my hands sink below the surface for now and ever, fate deciding I am to be the meal of an overgrown water snake. So, instead of swimming around for lengthy periods of time, I jump in and quickly swim to the ladder, fear shaking my spine and making my arms and legs forget the swimming lessons I took in my younger years.

It is no wonder to me why I am afraid of these things. I think about sea monsters every day, and I would say that sea monster-related articles are number one on my Wikipedia searches. And the crack in the wall? That fear I attribute to the various horror films I have watched alone, sometimes in the dark. No dark crack is ever just a dark crack. There is something lurking inside every shadowed hole and blackened rift. Or while you inspecting said rift, something will stealthily make its way behind you and get you/gut you where you stand, that look of surprise on your face showing only to the darkness.

These fears are irrational, yes. Perhaps a small level of paranoia as well. But that is why I ignore these fears whenever they surface. I don't have to be afraid of murderous psycho ventriliquist dolls or men and little girls in masks with knives or big water dragons with teeth and tentacles. I can say "I am not in danger," and as long as I do not enter a horror film through the broken fourth wall, I will be fine.

I read recently that in the same time the media has been broadcasting about this 'swine flu pandemic' in which seven people have died (as of April 29), thirteen thousand people have died from the regular flu. And you are afraid of the swine variation? That seems a little irrational.

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