Horror Warms My Soul
This is why horror warms my soul. Horror and gore are my favorite thing. There is something about curling up in my fuzzy blanket, listening to CreepyPasta that is relaxing. As I’m writing this, I’m listening to a creepy Youtube video and enjoying my lavender candle. I grew up watching scary movies and eating ramen noodles with my uncle and my dad.
I still remember hiding under my Minnie Mouse covers because my uncle talked me into watching the 80’s vampire movie The Lost Boys. The film is about a town full of vampire boys who try to turn other kids into vampires. And I had nightmares about the kids flying through my window to bite me, drink my blood, and turn me into an undead little girl. As a grown-up, that memory makes me laugh. Watching The Lost Boys fills me with warm, fuzzy feelings.
I have many great spooky memories. My first job was at a local haunt. I met some people that I still consider friends years later. I remember eating chalky pizza before showtime. And the smell of the makeup tent. That intoxicating blend of apples and soap. I can still hear the cringy music that would play when the clown popped out of bed and chased visitors around the set.
Horror has become a more significant part of my life in the last year than it has ever been. Horror has become a coping tool. Horror helps me deal with feelings that I can’t express verbally; horror helps me cope with feelings of fear and helplessness brought on by the mental illness. Horror has enabled me to gain readers. Most importantly, my love of scary things has given me a desire to get better. I want to go back to Los Angeles and go to The Museum of Death when my mind becomes less of a toxic minefield.