Today I was responsible (as per usual) for driving Sarah to and from her summer Chemistry course. At 8:50 pm when I got in my car to go get her, I suddenly felt very anxious, like I was about to be attacked! The reflection of our porch lights flashed in my eyes. The back of my spacious van was full of shadows, perfect for concealing a predator. My heart leaped from my chest when I saw a strange man smoking at the end of my driveway.
This never happens to me.
When camping I have no qualms with going into the dark woods to do my business. I'm never afraid of robbers. When walking in a busy city I feel calm and confident.
So why, today of all days, am I so afraid?
I can't help but wonder if I am pushing my brain to its natural limits. Of all the media out there- books, television, articles, movies, pictures etc. It seems that I am drawn almost exclusively to the darkest subjects. I'll read a few chapters of an emotional Jodi Picoult novel and top it off with an episode of Law and Order SVU. Sarah was furious with me the other day for sharing a vivid passage describing a girl accidentally drowning her cat. And I eat this stuff up. Not to say that I am violent, or emotionally disturbed, but I have a clear appreciation for all that is horrific. Most of my favorite movies have unhappy endings. What does that say about me?
Why am I so much more content to cry and quiver at a book or film, than to enjoy a comedy?
Look at me. Do I seem like a girl who is chock full or darkness. When I enter a room with a floral dress and a smile would you guess that not too far under the surface is a woman fascinated with sadness?
No, you wouldn't. So is it bad that I am so complex? I wonder, will anyone ever solve this puzzle?
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