I'm not sure why I torture myself like this; this nagging, tremor on my lips as I shut off the light, this persistent need to pull the covers tighter and tighter, up to my neck and over my eyes. I think I'm addicted to being a nervous wreck.
Horror films. Not really the bloody, gory kind..but more the kind that make me believe in the psychology of it all. The kind of horror that's all in my head. That's the kind that really gets my blood rushing, pulsing. It's the kind that makes me want to rip my hair out in frustration, and crawl under ten blankets with someone who will hold my hand.
So, as I sit here typing this...I'm stalling. I'm stalling, and stalling, and stalling because I don't want to turn off my desk light. I should probably shut my closet door because who knows what will crawl (shuddddder) out of it once I turn off the light. My roommate went home for the weekend...which is never a good thing after a night of weird, psychological scream-fests.
Stalling. How long can I possibly stall before my eyes droop and my fingers go numb and I think of any other crazy bull to write? .... Okay.
Okay, I'll turn out the lights. Now. Now.
... Now.
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