2018 Was Not So Much A Quantity Year, But A Quality Year Imo. I Started Doing So Much Better.

It took me too long, but I finally finished The Last Unicorn. I had bought a deluxe edition of the novel which came with an interview and a note from Mister Beagle.

What I didn't expect was the second story that came as an epilogue.

Two Hearts was beautiful, exciting, and the ending of this shorter tale is what finally made me cry.

I felt like a child again reading this book, though I stepped away and kept myself from reading it. I felt like once I read it, the magic of nostalgia would leave. It wouldn't be special to me, anymore. But it was. It truly was.

To say I am disappointed is an understatement.

Tonight, I let go.

Of all the pain, despair, misery, and images that haunt me on this date. I release them to the wind, to the rain, to the earth and let them become nothing but distant memories of my youth. I move forward holding the love, the warmth, and the joy that those years with you brought me. I will celebrate the life of all of those I hold dear. I will not dwell in death, but I will flourish in the gifts you all gave me.

This day has held me hostage for my entire life, but I felt you today. I felt you in that moment where the rain picked up and you cried with me. I felt your acknowledgement of me, my love, and my promise to surrender my grief. I stood lighter, the world felt brighter- my ears even popped, and I could hear more clearly!

I will carry forward the happiness we created.

I bought my first houseplants in 5 years today! I am so excited to finally have some nature in my home!

In a month or so, I’d like to get some lavender and cat grass. I’m going to have to stop impulse shopping from today forward. It’ll be good for me.

Anyone else ever experience that sudden horror when something loud just goes... silent?

When the constant hum of something making noise just drops?

It's like the air suddenly feels heavy and you're aware of where you are in your body and the space around you all at once.

It's a little frightening.

In watching a video about photography, as I would like to learn and I'm using my phone to do so, it was mentioned by the host that photographers are often compliment with a statement similar to, "Wow, that's a nice photo! You must have a great camera."

Never, in my life, have I thought about the quality of someone's tool assisting their work. Honestly! It might be because I grew up drawing and later writing and doing digital art, but I never thought to tell anyone, "Wow! Your artwork is gorgeous! You must have a great paintbrush!"

That's so odd, to me. People have been creating art with literal trash and I believe it's all dependent on skill. It's just interesting to learn that people bring up the quality of someone's tool in a compliment.

Artists: Have you been told a similar thing? How did it make you feel? Have you ever told someone else that?

youtuber finishes talking

me: mhm yeah

I am only one, but still I am one. I cannot do everything, but still I can do something. And because I cannot do everything, I will not refuse to do something that I can do.

“How can you enjoy horror?! How can you enjoy feeling fear and anxiety? What's wrong with you?”

I came across a video discussing this and it really made me think about myself, a horror fan who delves deep into the genre and loves to explore the different subgenres. But why do I enjoy it so much? Why do I prefer to sit in a state of anxiety and fear and watch others suffer?

The general answer would be: Because I am comfortable in that state. Those feelings I have lived within for most of my life, and it is where I feel most ‘safe’ in a sense. I feel that a lot of people can relate to horror in various ways.

Why?

Trauma. It all relates to the trauma I have endured from a very early age. Horror gives me various ways of sitting in these emotions and processing them. Even the different subgenres offer me different points of views and thoughts on how to approach these feelings and release them. No, I’m not talking about acting upon violence, because that’s just a very small part of horror.

Body horror is my favorite subgenre. The drastic metamorphosis of the human form turning into something we cannot comprehend - something that is alien to us. The suffering of being in that form that’s in between reality and the unknown. Struggling to understand it, attacking it because we don’t. I see my own body this way. I have never felt comfortable in my physical body. No, I do not suffer a debilitating disease or suffer the loss of body parts, but when I look at myself in the mirror I wonder, “Is this really what I look like?”

I forget that I do not look like the image I have of myself in my head and being reminded of that makes my stomach feel tight and I feel actual fear. I do not like how I look on the outside. I also do not like knowing what’s on the inside. Blood and gore make me queasy, not only on the screen or in a book, but in reality. The knowledge that my body is filled with fleshy pieces and liquid that can so easily be spilled and lead to my demise is terrifying.

Gothic horror. This one is a bit more subdued. It’s the past versus the present, time leaking into the future. It’s a reminder of how the past affects the present and how, in turn, the present affects the future. My past clings to me, I live in it. I am doing my best to let go, and movies in the subgenre and usually about doing just that. The happy ending of moving on from past trauma, of learning to cope healthily or close a chapter of your life to look forward to the future. This is a subject I desperately try to improve in myself, but this subgenre is where I feel so… understood.

Cosmic horror is so intriguing to me. It makes me dive into analyzing otherworldly subjects, working my mind to try and grasp whatever understanding I can from the horror introduced. It shows humanity struggling against an unknown but overcoming it… or being driven mad. It reminds me what it is to be human; how not understanding everything is terrifying, but real. We are not meant to understand everything, we cannot scientifically break down things and we can either accept that or fight against it.

Humanity’s true hubris is trying to understand the core of the universe, to examine everything in a way that we will have infinite knowledge and pluck at the strings of reality so that we can control it. How we, as a species, crave domination. This subgenre makes me take a step back, realize there are things we should not meddle in, and sometimes we should accept things as they are… lest we see what lies in the mountains of madness.

Paranormal fiction gives me hope. Strange, isn’t it? The idea of ghosts or demons haunting us. Thinking that we could be tormented by an entity that lives beside us that we only need to give an ounce of attention to. So why does it fill me with faith? Because I feel so alone. Not only due to my schedule of being someone who is only active over the evening and night, but because I have a habit of isolating myself due to my intense fear of abandonment. The paranormal is unseen right next to us and, as much as I don’t believe in spirits, heaven, or hell, a part of me does hope that maybe those I have lost are still here.

That I am not sitting here alone at my computer. Perhaps a phantom stands with me, watching me in intrigue of this new technology they cannot understand. Maybe a specter paces the hallway, reliving a certain moment in their lives over and over again, not knowing that I am here… but they are present. Is there a fiend wrapped around my shoulders, damning me throughout the day by placing me in difficult situations and causing havoc around me? Well, they’re dealing with my annoying optimism and having to listen to me break down, too. If they felt joy about it, I’m sure they would be tired of it by now. We’re just nagging each other at this point. Yet, neither of us would be alone.

It’s about grief.

It’s about self-animosity.

It’s about trauma.

It’s about feeling understood.

I enjoyed the show Stranger Things, for example, because I could relate to the characters. I was a gifted child who was exploited by the authority around me, I never felt that I fit in, and I tried so hard to do so. I was smart, but in turn I was looked down upon and still told I was not by adults. I had special interests but never found friends who shared in those. I was afraid of being alone.

Enjoying horror does not mean there is anything “wrong” with you. It’s a platform for exploring deep emotions, expressing questions we are too afraid to ask, and finding comfort in a way you can understand in a safe place. (By safe, I mean your living room or bed.) I know horror can be dangerous, but it can also be a form of therapy. Writing in the genre allows you to work through uncomfortable emotions, to get your feelings out in a way that doesn’t avoid those emotions.

I do not speak for everyone, and this is about my person views and experiences. I would love to hear the views and stories of others.

Artwork by everschade