10 Things that Irrationally Terrify Me
- When I close my eyes to wash shampoo out of my hair. You never know what kind of psychopathic murders could enter the bathroom and attack me whilst I’m soapy and vulnerable.
- Leaving a store without having purchased anything. ‘Will the employees think I’ve shoplifted? I didn’t steal anything I swear. Oh my god, what if the alarms go off? I look so suspicious right now. BE COOL, you’re innocent!’
- “We’ll start by getting to know each other. Everyone tell me your name and bit about yourself.” Does this even need explaining?
- Have you ever had an animal stare at you intently for no reason whatsoever? They know things. I don’t know what things… but things.
- *the power cuts out* ‘OHMYGOD I AM GOING TO DIE!’
- When someone knocks on the door and I not-so-smoothly dive out of view, even though the postman totally sees me and thinks I’m a few raisins short of a fruitcake.
- Small holes. If you don’t already know about trypophobia – google it. Or don’t. Consider yourself warned.
- Knowing that sewer rats can swim through the pipes and potentially end up in my toilet. Just imagine if you heard splashing and squeaking underneath your butt as you peed! I’m pretty sure the whole neighbourhood would hear my screams of terror.
- Eating any kind of meat from a can. I don’t even know if it can be called meat, but it’s terrifying stuff… whatever it is.
- The thought that I have the ability to kill someone if I so desired. It’s pretty terrifying to know that the only things stopping everyone from going on a murder spree is rational thought and basic human decency.
What a way to end this list! Don’t pretend like you haven’t had those kinds of thoughts, the intrusive ones that your brain conjures up when you’re holding a sharp knife or standing on the edge of a cliff. I’m glad they’re only fleeting, but it’s still quite jarring to know what our minds are capable of. Anywho, I hope this list made you feel a bit better about any irrational fears you may have, and I hope you’re having a terror-free day, wherever you may be! :3
A friend of mine once said I have an innate curiosity, an intense thirst for knowledge. I love learning new things and broadening my understanding of the world around me and everything in it. If I haven’t learnt something new for a few days, I become antsy. As far as I’m aware, I have always been a curious being. A few years ago, my parents bought me a blank journal and titled it “Google it” because even throughout my teenage years, I would always ask ‘why’ like an incessant toddler, and so they’d always tell me to just ‘Google it’. I’m still a walking question mark, but after realising that most people don’t have the answers I seek or simply cannot be bothered explaining them to me, I keep them safe in a little compartment in my mind. And yes, they all inevitably get Googled. Did you know that it’s impossible to hum when you hold your nose? Don’t worry, everyone sounds ridiculous, I promise. ^.^
I’m on a constant mission for new discoveries; mental, philosophical, historical or factual. It doesn’t matter what kind of knowledge I gain, I just love to learn. If I come across something I don’t know, or that intrigues me, I instantly want to learn about it – such as today, when I read an article about how to properly clean a penis. I do not own a penis, and have no idea why I felt inclined to read this article other than blatant curiosity, but I learned a lot. Even though I might not be able to use this new-found information myself, I can either pass it on to others or wait until I have little boys of my own, so I can teach them. It fills me with joy to learn, even about things completely unrelated to me whatsoever. Perhaps this is why it takes a lot to disturb me… because I’m also morbidly curious. I want to know about serial killers, cannibals, Hitler and everything else horrible in the world, because I want to understand. Why do they think that way; why do they do the things they do? A lot of it is fear based. The more I know, the more I think I can protect myself. It’s a weird thing, curiosity, and I’m yet to decide whether or not it’s a blessing or a curse… curiosity did kill the cat after all.
I’m inside out,
You’ve scrubbed me clean
There’s nothing left for you to see
I wore my heart where it got broken,
I wish I hadn’t been so open.
I’m an open book. Whether this is a good or a bad thing, I’m still yet to decide. There is a lot of talk aimed at people who struggle to open up and reveal their innermost thoughts and feelings, but not as much surrounding those of us who are perhaps too open. In the past there have been times when I’ve tried to close myself off from the world and live a mysterious and solitary existence, but it’s literally impossible. I have too many thoughts that push against the confines of my mind until I set them free. My head may as well be a beehive, because it sure does feel like I have a swarm of busy, buzzing little bees up there. Being the person I am, I have no qualms with being open and honest when someone asks me a question. Sometimes my answer surprises them, and their impression of me alters. I see it in their eyes; the judgement when they realise that I too am a human being and won’t always fit into the little box they’ve created for me. So, if people don’t want to know my answer or hear my opinion, they shouldn’t poke the beehive.
I think a lot. I think far too much, about every detail of every day; every experience and every thought that blossoms in my head. In my mind is a garden, filled with millions of tiny flowers and weeds, and I’ve scrutinised every single one of them, inside and out. You could pick one, and I can tell you when it was planted, how often it was watered and the height to which it grew before I either let it die, or continued to care for it. I tend to my garden every day, all day. I never stop. Every new experience is a handful of seeds thrown in my direction and I HAVE to catch them. I pick them up, one by one, and make space for them to grow. Sometimes I plant weeds. Ugly, poisonous plants that quickly grow out of control, suffocating the beautiful flowers and twisting their jagged roots deep into the earth. I watch them destroy my hard work and cry when I realise that I’m the one that gives them life. I water them when I shouldn’t, and pay them extra attention when instead I should be ripping them from the ground. But it doesn’t matter how many flowers I let die or how many weeds I plant, I can’t stop caring for them because even though they’re poisonous, when they’re thrown in my direction, I HAVE to catch them.
On the darkest of nights,
She sits by the windowsill
A gentle breeze beckoning,
Whispers from within
She watches, eyes wide
The window shaking silently,
Voices trembling endlessly
Fracturing the glass
Ruby red and dripping,
Shards between her palms
The wind howls outside
And in her mind
Shattering the glass
On the darkest of nights,
She sits by the windowsill
Cracked, and in pieces
But never succeeding.
Although it’s quite melancholy, and perhaps even a little dark, I was completely content and happy when I strung together this little bundle of words. Take from it what you will, but know that despite all the struggles you may be facing, you are cared about and loved. ♥
Have you ever thought about how we’re alone in the world? When you look past your friends and family members; the people who love and care about you, it’s easy to see how alone we truly are. You don’t know what it’s like to be me, just like I don’t know what it’s like to be you. Our experiences and upbringings largely determine how we end up; our identities; what we like and don’t like; our core values and beliefs… and all of these are stored as memories. I am the only one able to access my memories, the only one who can re-live them. If two people share an experience, they both have memories of that experience, but they will be unique to each individual. If two people are sitting on a mountain overlooking a beautiful sunset, they’ll each be seeing it from a different perspective, no two people able to see it exactly the same, and thus, their memories will be different. Some people might think it’s the most beautiful sunset they’ve ever seen, whereas others may think it wasn’t that special, and that they’ve seen better. These differences in how we perceive things illustrate how unique we all are, and how no two people can ever be the same… which brings me back to being alone. So often, I think of people who were briefly a part of my life – we may have shared an experience, or they may have taught me something – and I can’t help but wonder if they remember me too. I could bring up a vivid memory of mine and share it with the person who is part of that memory, and they haven’t the slightest clue what I’m talking about. In these moments, I realise how truly alone we really are. Without someone or something to validate our memories, our minds are the only thing telling us they actually happened. It’s terrifying, particularly when I think of people who have their memories ripped away from them either through amnesia or Alzheimer’s, because they’re literally losing everything that made them who they once were. We’re essentially living through our memories and each moment in the present will become one of the past, a concept that exists entirely in our minds. We live alone in our heads, never really knowing how other people are living, or if they even exist at all.
Born into the world, we appreciate the little things,
Meadows of green kissed with wildflowers
The feather light weight of living with unlimited hours
Winter comes, and our attention is shifted,
Fields we once stopped to admire slowly wilting
Our eyes become blind to the beauty that surrounds us,
Blurred are the lines between living and existing,
Still is the night, hollow trees absent of warmth,
Leaves long forgotten, fallen and buried in the earth,
But time does not stop as we forget to breathe,
What used to be little becomes nothing at all,
Appreciate the life you live before the world begins to fall.
Imagine this. You’re about to go for a shower. The water is running; you’re eager to feel its warmth cascade from the shower head and caress your bare skin. When you step inside, your breath lodges in your throat. The water is freezing cold, liquid icicles trickling down your body and holding you in place. Each breath becomes more frantic than the last as you struggle to maintain control. You’re frozen, helpless to the icy droplets piercing your skin, like daggers. All it takes is one simple motion, one step. Amidst your panic, you somehow manage to grip the tap and turn it off, leaving you gasping for air. You stand there, naked and vulnerable, tears mixing with droplets as they fall down the drain. Every thought you had before you stepped foot into the shower is gone. All you can think about is the lingering feeling of fear and the suffocating layer of water clinging to your skin.
I’m an anxious person, and have been since birth. My parents like to remind me of the crippling fear I once had as a toddler, when I was deathly afraid of my green turtle potty. Apparently, I’d look down in horror at what I had produced and would run away in hysterics. My anxiety lessened when I progressed to the ‘big toilet’, which had been fitted with a toilet training seat just for me. One afternoon, my mother asked my father if he could watch me for ten minutes whilst she showered; a task that he’d been given multiple times before. On this particular occasion however, something went awry and my parents were alerted to my blood curdling screams coming from our second bathroom. To their dismay, they found me red-faced and hysterical with a toilet seat stuck firmly around my neck. No amount of pulling, lifting or greasing would remove it, which left them wondering how on earth I’d gotten it over my head to begin with. With only one thing left that they could think to do, I was buckled into my car seat as we drove down the road where a bewildered family friend promptly removed the plastic seat with a tool resembling garden shears. My memory of this is vague, although I’m pleased to report that I have not been permanently scarred by this incident. Apart from some minor anxiety surrounding public bathrooms and people hearing me pee, I’m handling things pretty well these days. :3
I guess the point I’m trying to make here is that anxiety ebbs and flows. The things that make us anxious today are unlikely to make us feel the same way a year from now. Anxiety isn’t something that will ever disappear completely. We learn to manage it and push through the irrational thoughts and negative voices in our heads, because that is the only thing we can do. We will not be ruled by anxiety, and although there will be bad days, we won’t let them stop us from achieving greatness… even if that means peeing loudly for the world to hear!
And so are you.
We live in a world that is so focused on ticking things of idealistic checklists that we often forget life isn’t just about living up to society’s idea of perfection. We’re all following the same path. A path that was mapped out hundreds of years ago and has been walked a billion times. It’s impossible for us to know anything different, because we are taught to tread in the footprints of those before us. Our existence on this planet is fleeting, yet so many of us are terrified to deviate from the path that we were raised to follow. We as a species are transient. You are as ephemeral as autumn leaf before it falls. Use your time on this earth wisely, because you never know when the wind will carry you away.
I’m not a pessimist, I promise. 🙂 Well… maybe a tiny bit. For the most part, I’m just as lost and confused as everyone else on this earth. I write about all kinds of things, whatever tickles my fancy at any particular moment really. My mind is filled with so many thoughts that I figured starting a blog would be a good way to get some of them out, and maybe inspire someone in the process. If you like my rambles, welcome! I’m a socially awkward artist and lover of words who received more than her fair share of crazy at conception. It’s cool though… being a tiddly bit odd has become my trademark.