So: I'm going to try to write more. It should be interesting. I'm also going to try to type up these entries without looking at them too much. Just to see how truly despicable my typing skills become when I can't watch them and continue my obsession with the backspace key.
So! Scary story time!
I frighten mysel foften. I'm not one of those people who can just lay down and sleep, I have to think for a while first. During this time, my complete shit eyesight can often influence what I perceive around me and lead me to think "That stack of 'probably clothes' looks like the trash monster from the Fraggles" and then off I go. Right?
Sometimes, though, I think about how I'd like my home to look, ideally. Other times it's environmental elements that get me going.
Exsample 1: Last night (or maybe the night before) I was pretending to be asleep (really reading sites on my phone. God I love my iPhone. Or, rather, I love the internet.) and as I shifted, the bed squeaks really loudly. I tdoes that a lot. I don't know if it's because it's an old bedframe/boxspring combo, or if it's because we have the above stacked on risers so more shit can fit under the bed. But! It's noisy, and I thought "Wow, if I was starting fresh and had my own place, I hope the bed wouldn't squeak like this cause it's loud and annoying", which led to "Well, I probably would just throw a mattress on the floor, because lazy, and also it'd lend itself nicely to a sort of 'casbah' theme to a bedroom and the cats would probably enjoy that", which led to "And then when I'm feeling lazy or sick I could just crawl to the bathroom."
"
Naturally, this led to me picturing the crawl, in the early light of dawn or the pitch black of night blessedly cast by blackout curtains (because FUCK YOU, STREETLIGHT!) and how I'd keep the carpet vacuumed , and how I wouldn't even need my glasses because if I'm on the floor I can't trip over anything.
Which made me think of crawling across the darkened hallway to the bathroom, grumbling quietly about the hour, or whatever issue made me go to the bathroom in the first place, and how my dogcat would probably really enjoy this new game of "walk under the human".
So then I imagine her bushy tail running across my throat as the gallumphs in front of me on her way to jump into the bathtub, y'know, like they do, and then my brain turned on me.
As usual.
It made me imagine laying my hand down on the carpet in the hallway, only to encounter another hand. My brain-what-loves-me rallied, and suggested this would be a probably-hungover houseguest and we could carefully avoid knocking heads and have a quiet groaning discussion about who gets the restroom first.
And then the brain-what-hates-me thought:
What if the hand was cold.
And in the near-dark you saw the other crawler, her hair down over her face, like your own.
And she raises her head, and her jaw is missing, the carpet dark beneath her with blood or gore, and a trail seeping audibly into the carpet where she's crawled to here.
Fuck you, zombie girl from The Ring, and also the Grudge. Even though I logically realize you're among the slowest and least dangerous of zombie/spirit/demon/creatures, you still suck and that gagging air-sucking noise of an exposed trachea and ugh.
Fuck you, brain. I thought we wanted sleep. I guess it wanted more internet.
