My Horror Story

Photo by Christian Holzinger on Unsplash

I’m searching for the kind of horror story that can’t be real, but I can’t find it because the horrors I’ve felt are all too real. The kind of horror story that has haunted me since what feels like my first breaths. The kind of nightmares that crept in through a deep darkness and made fear feel like a long-lost friend. As a baby, it spoke my name through pulsed breaths. As a toddler waking from terrors that could only be satiated by sweat and shrilled screams. All I wanted was out. Out of that thing that paralyzed me and penetrated my nerves with exaggerated, slow moving, torturous fears.

I’m accustom to the kind of taunting that didn’t need an old haunted house or ghosts to come out from under my bed. They already had my basement, my small city. They already knew my family and my name. They’d already staked territory in the crawl spaces and cozy corners beneath our home. I hated those stairs that led down, I didn’t know how to slow my ragged climb or outpace the monsters that chased. They had already clenched my mind, imprisoning my early memories. The prison of one’s mind is a staggered, wretched hunting zone. 

I ran up those stairs to escape what had already captured but I could never run fast enough. I was always caught. 

Nonetheless, I just kept running.

And I ran for years.

Until I learned I could fight... until I figured out I actually had an authority to negate and break free. 

Fear can be magnetizing, creating cycles that keep us running in circles. I’ve gotten lost in the all too familiar reflections, because part of it becomes you and the other part terrorizes you. In the end it’s just a shadow and game, but the projection indicates a 3-D cycle that captivates the imagination. And I have a really good imagination. Do you?

I’m searching for the one that relates to this vulnerability that I’m putting out here. I’m searching for the one that maybe has a similar story, the one that admits it isn’t a game, but your imagination makes it a chase. I’m searching for the soul that relates to my soul. I’m searching for you. It isn’t right, but it may just be natural.

Message me your experience.
Send me your thoughts. 
You’re not alone.