It’s the first day of November and years ago, from dawn to twilight, I was busy playing with candles in the cemetery. It’s an addicting hobby that kids like to do and I remember myself doing it until I am six. It’s very natural that if you are a child, Halloween will never be complete without that experience. So after eleven years (of changes), I’m in front of the computer, trying to make a blog post regarding the Halloween season (hello, adolescence!).
I find it funny (and sucking) that people actually scare themselves whenever the first day of November strikes. It’s like if ever there are really paranormal creatures and ghosts, they just appear on the first day of November and no other day. It’s actually weird that during the last week of October, when I was busy watching the television, no matter what channel I switch in, it’s all about ghosts and myths and paranormal encounters. They're all the same. I was nauseating about those. I mean, they can always feature scary encounters but what they, in fact, do is they wait until Halloween season sinks in. It isn’t very much appreciated by me. Perhaps, I am really much interested whenever they feature it as soon as someone experienced it because if they wait until Halloween, the feeling fades away, too. I wanted to tell them, “Hey, it happened a couple of months ago. What’s the point of telling us today? It's done... It's gone.” I have also read numerous books about scary experiences and I was like, “Oh bad for you”, “So why don’t you kill yourself if you were really that scared?” and “That sounds funny.” (Okay, that was the bad me talking. I just can’t help but care not.) It’s not that I am brave and not scared (maybe I just don’t have a very traumatic experience yet with those spirits for me to blog about that and I just didn’t have that same kind of occurrence for me to relate. So ‘twas good for me,) but it’s just that I have fears so far greater than those restless souls. They don’t drive me insane especially during those sleepless nights.
A part of my fears lies on needles and sharp objects. I am afraid whenever I see those shiny needles and I become more afraid whenever I see it being inserted into a clear skin. It’s like an orange being sliced. The doctor said it’s a phobia but I don’t believe. For me, a phobia is something which I will see in the morning and I won’t stop thinking for a week and in that kind of perception, my fear of needles isn’t considered as a phobia. Whenever I see needles, I’ll be scared for just that moment but later on, I won’t be thinking about it. That is also not something which bugs me endlessly. Little by little I am overcoming it. It’s frightening (for me) but due to some instances (like I was scraped by a random cat) I had to face my fear of needles (for if I don’t, I maybe facing death, which is, at some point, more frightening).
A part of my fears lies on dreams. It gives me the idea that what I have dreamt about will be happening and it’s (very) scary that before it even happened, I already knew. If that is a power of a blessing, I don’t care. I am just so happy that majority of my bad dreams just stay on dream land and never find it’s way to my wonderful reality (because if it did, I may be the most miserable person alive). But (good thing) I was able to overcome it. Perhaps it’s just a cheap and easily-distracted fear that I found it easy to get it off my chest.
I am now about to go to the cemetery to play with the candles (just kidding). After all, I must give reverence to my grandfather. Maybe I’ll return later to blog about my greatest fear (I mean, the fear which I didn't include here). Maybe I won’t because I am just too scared about it that typing it will give me goose bumps (just kidding again). So long, BRB.