I am a horror enthusiast. I have been ever since I was young. Things that scared me ultimately lured me in. The elements of mystery and fear piqued my interest. When I was young, I would purposefully watch scary movies, but if it became too much I would hold my hand in front of the screen so I could only see parts of it. I would pick scary books to read, but I would have to read a few words at a time before putting the book down for a few seconds.
I don’t know where this initial love of being scared came from. Growing up, I was always afraid. I lived in constant fear. When I lived in Indonesia, I lived in a relatively dangerous place, I was left alone with sketchy adults and I am just now realizing how awful that sounds.
I’ve always been afraid of being alone. When I lived in Indonesia, I had my own bedroom, but it was always empty because I refused to sleep alone, even if it was just a few feet away from my dad. So he built me a little tent on my side of the bed we shared, the side closest to the wall. I remember having a terrible nightmare where I came home and a zombie McDonalds worker (I’m so serious) jumped out of the bathroom at me. You know the thing where you can’t run in your dreams? That started happening to me, so I had to crawl away but the rug I was crawling on kept moving with me so I was going nowhere. I called out to my dad and he didn’t do anything to help. That was before I could differentiate dreams from reality so when I woke up, I was really angry at him and never told him why because I thought it was real. I still feel bad for that – I should’ve told him. It’s really funny to look back on that now, though.
When I moved to America, I felt safe for the first time. I actually lived in a house, I finally had friends and trusted adults around me, I had 3 meals a day promised to me. This was such a stark contrast to everything I had known, the fear that I had grown so familiar with. I started having terrible nightmares almost every night. I don’t remember any of these, but my great aunt would always ask me if I remembered. I would hide under the bed and wouldn’t come out. I would wake up screaming and crying in the middle of the night. I would claim to see things that no one else could see. I don’t remember any of this but my great aunt would tell me these things and I would keep repeating “I don’t remember doing that.”
When we moved houses, things seemed fine. I still slept with my dad, but the nightmares fizzled out. Then, I got my own bedroom. It was cute and pink and I had all of my stuffed animals in there and a bed crown with a curtain! I wonder where that thing went because I miss it. Anyways, things started to look up. I was able to sleep on my own (at the ripe age of 6) and I wasn’t having nightmares. I was content and happy for once. Then I started developing insomnia. I would lay awake in bed for hours in a dimly lit, completely silent room all alone. To combat this, my great aunt gave me a bulky radio to put on my tiny little nightstand because she knew I loved music. We’d set it on the pop music station and it didn’t really work, but it definitely cheered me up. Now, I would just sit in a dimly lit room all alone with Timber by Pitbull and Kesha playing in the background. It got to a point where I would memorize all of the commercials that would play on the radio. Then I started seeing shapes in the shadows of my room. Not like an insane creepy way, in a way like when you see shapes in the clouds. Sometimes these shapes would scare me though and I would start crying.
Eventually, I had the worst nightmare that an 8 year old could ever conjure that I still think of to this day. It started off as if it was a point and click adventure game. I didn’t see any arrows or a mouse or anything like that but the way the point of view moved so slowly and robotically, that was the only way I could describe it. The nightmare started off with me entering the house and walking straight to my room, again, like a point and click game. Then I opened the door to my bedroom and it was literally filled with a bunch of dead bodies. It feels kind of silly talking about this now after so many years but imagine a scared little 8 year old having this nightmare while sleeping in that very bedroom. There wasn’t a single surface that wasn’t covered in blood or corpses. The point of view went into the room and to my connected bathroom and there were even more bodies in there. I hope to never relive that memory or feel that kind of fear again in my life. After that, I refused to even go in my room for 2 years and it was a rough process of getting me to sleep alone again.
I meant to focus this blog on my love for the horror genre but I felt like it was important to explain my history with the feeling of fear and why I love it so much now as a 16 year old.
I don’t remember the last time I’ve had a nightmare (knock on wood) and I’m so grateful for that. Nightmares are literally the worst thing imaginable. Being at complete mercy of the horrors your brain has created until your body decides to wake you up again is a terrifying idea.
As I’ve mentioned, I loved horror as a little girl. I watched scary movies, read scary stories, watched other people play scary games because I couldn’t. It’s no surprise that I haven’t changed. Horror is my favorite genre in everything. Movies, shows, books, Tik Toks, …Pinterest??? Yeah, I have a horror board on Pinterest and then I get upset when I’m jump scared on my feed when I’m looking for craft projects at 2 AM – nothing new.
One thing that is still also present in 16 year old me now, is the fact that I don’t like to be alone. Typing this out now has made me realize that I have not changed much from the scared, sad little girl I used to be. I still love scary things and I’m still afraid of being alone. I’ve just gotten a little bit taller. And hopefully a little bit prettier and skinnier.
I still like horror, but I like to have someone there with me. I don’t like to enjoy horror content by myself so I would rather have someone tell me the story along with their input and opinions and how they enjoyed it. Some people might think that’s silly or lazy, even. I’ll admit, it’s not something I’m proud of but it’s true and that’s okay. This blog was meant to talk about how I had a void in my enjoyment of horror. Most things I was interested in as a kid never really connected to me specifically. I couldn’t find anything that really resonated with me and I think that’s what makes an amazing story. Obviously, it resonated with other people – just not me and that’s perfectly fine.
A few years after I decided I wanted to be an author in the 6th grade, I wondered about what I wanted to write. I knew I could write whatever genre felt right for the story, but that just didn’t feel right. I wanted something I would be known for. I wanted something I knew I would enjoy, and something other people would enjoy. I thought about my childhood and how much I loved horror, but I felt like there was a void in what I really found joy in. I remember reading this series in the 4th grade called “You’re Invited to a Creepover” but I just remembered it as “Creepover.” It was basically scary stories about/for young girls. I loved that series. I felt like I could relate to it, I found joy in the stories and they were also really scary to me.
That’s exactly what I wanted to make as an author. Horror stories for weird teenage girls. Horror stories that will embrace femininity and make real people, real young girls, feel like they’ve been heard. I want teenage girls to find something that they enjoy rather than just having to deal with creative media created by boys for boys. Of course, horror should be for everyone. But growing up, I never had an outlet that represents my femininity and love for scary things and that’s what I want to be for teenage girls. I want to grow into a creative idol that younger me would adore.
this is really interesting to me because ive found that a lot of people who enjoy horror and sci-fi media often experience a lot of anxiety of have gone through a lot of fear-inducing events in their life. i relate to this experience heavily, and it’s really cool to see other people verbalizing this shared occurance :]
i wonder if the tie between fans of fictional horror and their pasts being filled with fear or trauma might have something to do with the fact that they have control over the fictional horror they consume. you cant control the scary things that happen to you in the real world, but you can choice to watch a movie about a serial killer and not pay any consequenses. i would love to do more research into the science behind that 🙂
to face your fears and to preserve through it shows great resolve
I love the part about your dad building you a tent, that’s so heartwarming (yellow heart emoji). I really want to hear more stories about your time in Indonesia because every time you talk about it; you have such a curiosity and longing in your voice and writing as well. I loved this blog!
I used to have really bad nightmares too and now I’m a horror addict as well. I do think it is a way of normalizing fear/ controlling what we are scared of. Your blogs are always beautiful, whether you’re writing about your playlists, grief, or the basest fear of the human mind, you do it in such an artistic way that I’m a little bit jealous of how in tune you seem with these ideas. Even if you don’t fully understand it, you write like you do and I think that this is an invaluable and kind of rare skill.
I love this idea and honestly have never thought that horror-based things could be gender based or more catered to a specific audience but now that this made me reflect on it I understand completely and think your idea to improve upon it is amazing.