I don’t mind horror movies. They can be rather boring and weird and sometimes the plot lines don’t make sense, but overall, they don’t really scare me. I know they are played by actors using make-up and CGI and props. I can easily rationalise over the scary parts. What scares me is when the writing or acting is shockingly bad. Sometimes I’m in awe of the graphics and how accurate some parts can be, other times, like when I was watching 13 Ghosts, I can be in hysterics. Even the memory of that film can start me laughing. I have a somewhat morbid humour. And then there’s the films which scare me when I think that something similar may have happened in real life, it’s scary how bad the world can be.
On the whole, I prefer comedies. I’d much rather laugh than spend over an hour rolling my eyes and trying to make sense out of the senseless.
So what’s the point of this blog post? Fear. Sure, scary films don’t scare me when I’m watching them. But you know what does scare me? My brain. My imagination. Trust me, you don’t want to be in my head in the middle of the night when needing the toilet. For some reason my brain likes to take the scary part of every single horror film and stick them all together to make one sh*t scary experience.
Suspense is the one my brain seems to like best. Imagining that there’s something creepy lurking right behind the door, ready to reach out and… boo! Each new movie makes new things to dream up. Being attacked by moths, being raided by strangers, looking out the window to see some creepy monster, ghosts attacking, being suffocated, something being under the bed and reaching up to grab at you, being watched by someone invisible, dolls coming to life, clowns following me around, girls coming out of the tv, trapped in small areas, small animals crawling under the skin, murderous children, family members going missing, being blind and accidentally attacking a loved one, on and on it goes.
There’s no end to the darkness in my mind. Night time makes it worse, those fears become more real when it’s harder to see, when it’s quieter and there’s no one else around. You find yourself thinking of escape strategies, who you could phone, how you could run, what you’d need to fight back, etc. It both relaxes and compounds the issue. And when you’re ill… imagine trying to escape horrors in the middle of the night when you’re running a fever. Sometimes I wish I owned a bed pan.
It’s one thing to rationalise that what you’re seeing on the tv is just some guy in make-up, it’s another to rationalise that there’s nothing really there in the dark when you can’t properly see and don’t know for real anyway. How do you know that someone hasn’t broken into your house whilst you were sleeping and is now waiting for you on the other side of that door as you pee. Reality is scary. I guess the thing about movies is that they make you think about what could happen. Did the people who were actually attacked like out of a horror movie think about these things before they were attacked? I bet they do now, if they are still alive that is.
So no, I don’t need horror movies filling my head with ideas on how to scare me best at 2am. I don’t need to feel paralysed in bed bursting for the toilet but too scared in case someone bad is just beyond my bedroom door. Not that my blanket will offer any protection, but I feel safer in bed. If only I can hold it in until morning.