I detest being scared. I startle easily, and scary movies are torture to me. The feeling of fear is awful and I don’t understand why so many people seem to enjoy it so much. Fear sucks. Fear eats away at your spirit and leaves you edgy and depleted. It steals your joy and gnaws at your spirit. Fear by choice? No thank you.
Maybe it all stems back to the gas mask incident, I don’t know. One afternoon when I was two years old I was in my room having a nap. I assume I was resting peacefully when suddenly I was awoken by the most horrifying sight I had ever seen. I screamed in horror and scrambled over the rail of the crib, absolutely terrified. How was I to know that it was only my seven year old brother wearing a gas mask? Who does that? And who has a gas mask in their house? According to my mother, my father was a visionary. I wonder if he ever envisioned his daughter scarred for life by his naughty little son.
As if that incident weren’t bad enough, maybe The Poseidon Adventure sealed the deal. I guess my mom was feeling weak. My brother had been working on her for some time, begging to see this movie. Maybe she reasoned that since The Carpenters were in it, the movie couldn’t be THAT bad. Whatever her reasoning, she decided to take us to see it. We went to a matinee with only a few other people in the theater. Turns out that was a good thing. Apparently a six year old me wasn’t quite ready for disaster at sea. I still have nightmares about drowning and fire. No, Captain Scott, DON’T LET GO!!!!!
I was kind of a scared kid. I used to profile people in the line at the bank so I could describe them to the police after they held the place up. I would look around in restaurants, trying to figure out where I would hide when the crazed gunmen would showed up. I even had a plan in place for the off chance that a Nazi patrol would come to my house in the night to round us up, like they did to our relatives in Germany years before.
No thank you, I don’t choose to be afraid. I think there are enough scary things in the real world without adding in the likes of Freddy Krueger and Michael Meyers. I will not be joining you at the haunted corn maze or riding the triple corkscrew roller coaster. Jumping out of an airplane or bungee jumping off a bridge are not for me, and the idea of participating in any type of war games sends me scrambling in the other direction, especially if there are gas masks involved. Call me a chicken or a scaredy cat or whatever you want, but keep the scary stuff away from me, please.