Show people how I love, feel, and see the world (and try not to scare them in the process)

I like horror movies. Ghost stories. Shows about the paranormal. Creepy weird things, sounds in the dead of night.

A little too much if you ask my husband.

But then on the other hand… I believe in faeries, I’m still in love with all things bright and shinny from my childhood. Fraggles and CareBears are all over my house. I get all giggly when I have stickers. (Glee! I LOVE stickers!) I’m the definition of warm and fuzzy.

But I like the dark dark creepy tales. Ok, I love them. Ok, I’m obsessed with them. I sometimes dream in blood. For years and years I half-believed a vampire would come and take me away. I see many things in the shadows that aren’t there…

or are they?

And I indulge these dark fantasies not because I find them enjoyable, not because I find them entertaining (I do a bit)... I spend time on the dark side because I am trying to find common ground, a place of rest. I’m trying to find something that matches what I see in my mind. You see, what I see in my mind is so much, oh so much more, darker then any movie, ghost story, any dark tale to tell at midnight. I do it to calm myself down. “See,” I tell myself, “There are other strange ones out there.” “There are other’s out there with dark minds too… I’m ok.” Others watch a scary movie to get riled up, I watch it to calm down.

One of the first goals I put on here back in the day when I started 43things was to “really be scared” But I took it off because alot of people didn’t understand. Yes, I have been scared, when I thought my friends or family where in harm’s way, when I thought the end of my life was just seconds away… Yeah, I have known fear.

But I have yet to find something that matches the darkness inside of me.

I creep myself out sometimes…

Anyone know of any really good spooky movies?

Many many years ago my brother told me that he saw someone step on a caterpillar on a very certain spot of sidewalk while he was walking home from school. He said that they laughed and moved on. Ever since that day I have always stepped around/jumped over that square of concrete. I doubt that he remembers that he saw that or that he even told me about it. But whenever I walk down to the school, which is just down the street from my parents place, I remember that poor squashed bug and show him respect by not treading on his grave.

I am always so careful not to step on any of my little friends. Once on a family trip we went up to upstate New York… beautiful place. I remember there where all this tiny little baby frogs around, they would jump right between your foot and your flip-flop and get smooshed. It was a very traumatic trip for me.

I have named many a snail, played hours with slugs, attended a worm wedding, told stories to potato bugs, and even adopted a bumblebee for a day. All the creatures big and small on this large round earth have names, personalities, and special quirks.

I have always been a little strange, a little bit on the different side. I have embraced this and have harvested it to it’s full potential, but it was a bit lonely growing up. How can you make friends when you speak the language of rainbows, colors, thunderstorms, and dragonflies? I found my friends in nature. The trees where my aunts and uncles, my mentors and elders. The small crawling things became my playmates.

Since then I have found people who see my heart and love me for it, but I will always have a very tender place for my little friends.