The Real American Horror Story

I lived alone for a couple weeks during the second semester of my freshman year of college. I’m convinced I scared off my first roommate from returning to Ithaca with my collection of High School Musical posters. I had a new roommate lined up, but we had to deal with the bureaucrats of Res Life and there was some delay before she could move in. I made the most of having a Towers corner double to myself: I pushed the beds together, hosted a variety of events and slumbies, and enjoyed plenty of pantsless Broadway karaoke.

Now, as previously discussed, I am afraid of everything. I have an overactive imagination and all it takes is a commercial for a scary movie to send me into a frightened spiral. Therefore, living alone was not exactly the best experience.

One night, I was up late watching Sex and the City on TBS and writing a paper. I finished and went down the hall to brush my teeth. When I came back, SATC had ended and was replaced by the opening credits for Signs.

I had seen Signs that summer and let me tell you, it was not a pretty experience. I spent the whole time hiding under a blanket because if aliens showed up, they would never hurt a girl protected by a piece of cloth. For weeks I was convinced aliens were going to sneak into my attic and I constantly kept a bottle of water by my bed just in case.

So now I was having major flashbacks. I got ready for bed and decided to sleep with my curtains open, hoping the lights from the parking lot and people wandering around would help. However, there was a giant tree right outside and its branches were scraping against my window and making creepy alien finger shadows on the wall. I tried unsuccessfully to sleep until about midnight, when I called my sneezecracker boyfriend and begged him to come stay with me or at least let me come up to his room and sleep on his futon. He refused to protect me. (Note to guys: if a girl is scared, go protect her. She will be extremely thankful and bake you things and maybe even be a little slutty).

So there I was, scared and alone, with no hope for sleep. I tried watching some Family Guy reruns and distracting myself with Facebook stalking, but I was still scared. Finally, at about 4am, my friend Jackie messaged me and asked why I was still up and online. I admitted my dilemma and she immediately invited me up to sleep in her and Kristen’s room for the night. I grabbed my pillow and blanket and booked it out of my death room to sleep on their floor for 3 hours before I had to get up for class.

And that’s why I don’t watch scary movies.


One thought on “The Real American Horror Story

  1. I am exactly the same way!!! I made the decision to not watch scary movies anymore because I can’t handle it….it’s just not worth it! My least favorite thing is waking up in the middle of the night from a nightmare, and having to force myself to have happy thoughts in order to fall back asleep.

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