"Let me tell you a story."
Everyday I would ask, "tell me something scary, I want to hear something that will freak me out. I want to get really messed up in the head. Tell me something scary."
And everyday she would come and say, "let me tell you a story."
And everyday it was the same story. And everyday I used to wonder, "there's nothing scary about this story. Why does she keep saying it the same way in the same delivery and tone and with the same pregnant pauses."
Fear belongs to the unknown. It cannot be anticipated. It can't be measured. It can't be bound by a limited imagination. Fear knows how to take and take it does, very well.
A morbid interest in dark unknowables
Anxiety to keep the sheets warm but your feet cold
Fear that's anticipated but always fucking underestimated
Nightmares that put Alice to shame
You would think it's the perfect recipe for insanity
She will tell you all you're mind is prepared to hear
What she won't tell you is that your curiosity will give you scalded fingers
It will poke holes in a seemingly strong sense of self
It will create existential doubt so profound
A mere mirror'd personify true terror
To decrypt is not to heal
Guess what though
And Accepting is