True Horror vs. Fictional Horror

Been watching a lot of Netflix lately. It's always the most boring of times, waiting inbetween jobs. I know I should probably be studying Greek or French,  but I've just been researching local history, instagramming, and binging on TV shows.
One of the things I've been watching lately is Goosebumps, an all time childhood favourite. I was reminiscing with a friend, the other day, about how I used to read the books as a child. I had a lot of those 'Choose your own adventure' ones, and every time I'd pick a chapter that resulted in the death of my character, I'd just go back and pick a different chapter, and keep picking them until I found a happy ending.


I wish life was like that.

I wish it was possible to just go back in time and do things differently. I wish I could have avoided working in a place that seems to be better fitted for a thriller movie. 
But then I look at all the skills I've acquired, all the things I've learned, and maybe there was a purpose to it after all.

It just seems like I'm trying to force myself to get better, before I've really had chance to comprehend all that has happened.

The most frightening thing was being in an ambulance, and feeling guilty because of it. Feeling like a horrid person. 

Sometimes I did like to roll a die in
order to choose between chapters though.

But life isn't like a book, we can't choose our chapters, we can't go back. Only learn, or at least that's what we tell ourselves. Sometimes I feel like we're bound more by morals, and social expectations than we are by our actual emotions. It's so easy to convince ourselves we don't feel things, because the world would frown upon us if we did. Humanity, hey -  the ability to love, and the ability to hurt. I do feel like I've grown, a few years ago I'd have been full of loathing at this point. Probably bitching about things to everyone. But now, besides blogging, I don't really talk to anyone about it. And when anyone tries to badmouth someone, I'm quick to defend them. Where once, I was so quick to jump and attack people, I now try to be more understanding. But then, I'm an adult now.
With the stress of bills, and jobs, and chores, and dogcare, it's really a wonder how I have any time to feel heartache at all. But I guess, even with a busy mind, the heart doesn't just turn off.

I think a lot of people keep themselves busy as a means of avoidance, but the moment they have a second to think - it hits them.

This one was particularly horrifying! 

It's amazing how life can put forward so many monsters, and throw so many complex obstacles in the way of happiness. Growing up, my biggest fear was whether a ventriloquist dummy was going to kill me, or whether aliens were going to abduct me. Now I'm aware that the monsters we read about in things like Shivers and Goosebumps don't exist in the way they're presented in those stories. In a way, the things I read as a child could easily form a basis for nowadays, in a metaphorical stance. I may not have been pursued by a dummy, but it felt for a long time that people were trying to control me, and then kill me off when I fought back. Maybe that's a slight dramatic, but with anxiety, the slightest knock back can feel bad, so when serious things happen it really does feel like torture. Though, I used to fear being abducted by aliens, I now fear someone trying to abduct me or rob me, or attempt to run me over by their car. I think, as a child, the idea of being abducted by aliens wasn't really that frightening over all. I thrive off adventure, and I used to fantasize about running away and discovering new things, learning new things, educating myself, etc. 

In fairness I am convinced that this guy is
clearly Zoltan!

I know too much about the most unusual of things. I could rant off about religion for hours. I could be going for a walk with someone and just randomly feel the urge to burst out in information about the history of a landmark we just walked past. History is in its own way a path of weaves - the butterfly effect, and all that. I used to read way too much as a child, lock myself away and read. One particular book, Emily Climbs, depicted the story of a young girl who would narrate her life in writings - everything from heartbreaks to career progression. I think that set the stone that encouraged me to always write about my feelings. It's only recent that I've decided to publish it, but I've always written up my thoughts. Books like Jane Eyre, Frankenstein, Dracula, and Harry Potter - all conveniently belonging to the Gothic genre, taught me to look outside the box for things.

Suddenly vampires were hot...

Jane Eyre: Showed me that it's okay to follow your heart, regardless of the social commentary and
judgement you may get it. It also taught me that it's okay to love a monster - Mr Rochester treated his first wife terribly, but Jane Eyre still saw a good in him. She saw past the guise of darkness, bitterness, and cruelty. 

Frankenstein: Showed me how important it is to love the monsters we create. In life we go around hurting people, and then for some reason reject them when they react to our hurt. Frankenstein wanted so desperately for success that he went about it in the most corrupt of ways, and it caused a lot of hurt. Again, that taught me that people will do that. They will be selfish, but eventually the devastation will catch up, and that's why it's important to remain fair and understanding

Dracula: Taught me that the obsession with love can drive to murder, the urge to control and contain people, rather than let them be free and happy. I think, we've all at some point wanted to also lock ourselves away in a castle, away from people because we feel judged and alone. I think there's actually quite
a lot that can be taken from that one story alone.

Harry Potter: Taught me that it's okay to have bushy brown hair, and an intellectual mind, and that one day the person inside may come to the surface and to those that matter - you will be beautiful.

Two of those novels also had me hooked on the unknown, the unexplained. Alongside watching cheesy classics like Monster Squad and Lost Boys, I was researching religions, mythology, history and the paranormal. How, and Why things happen greatly intrigues me. But I also then became afraid of spontaneous human combustion. If only I'd realised that the bigger danger in life is burning up with emotion and desire. 

But I guess emotion, desire, concern, and care are just reminders of how human we all are. People deal with grief, and heartache in different ways. 
Getting angry at myself for not 'being okay' and just 'getting over' things isn't going to do any good. 

... Oh, how I really wish life was like one of those books.

But then who'd actually choose a chapter that would land on me? 

Until the next time, Over & Out!