They really do vary in genre, and looking back, I’ve had them a long time. At times they are normal: thinking someone said something, a person is sitting next to me when really nobody’s there— the kind that are most easiest to mistake as real. Other times they’re quite psychedelic and make me feel as though I’m stoned out of my damn mind. But sometimes the disturbing, terrifying ones come.
And when they do come, they’re absolutely horrific.
I remember once I was very upset and my parents were angered with me. I was sitting against the door crying into my knees, wishing I wasn’t alive, and from under my bed, a grey, ashen figure crawled out and spoke to me.
“Look at yourself. You’re horrible. Those aren’t your parents— you’ve killed them and they’ve been replaced. You are death, destroyer of worlds.”
Ah, my readings of Oppenheimer seem to have caught up with me.
Another time, not too long ago, I was laying in bed, supposed to be asleep, and staring at the figures in my closet. One of my constant hallucinations appeared. Imagine what the lovechild of the Babadook and a scarecrow would look like, and you’d get a good representation of what it looks like.
(What a true beauty…)
Usually, its face would be concealed by shadows or whatever, but that night it wasn’t. It was disgusting— huge, pus-filled cysts for eyes, skin grey and shadowy, awash with deep, cracked wrinkles. It came towards me in a very slow walk, almost taunting me with its abominable features, and right at that moment, the plant in my room that’s suspended on the ceiling turned into a face staring at me.
I quickly hid under the covers, hyperventilating. It was seriously scary. Thank GOD I eventually calmed down and fell asleep.
Sometimes, when I’m home alone, I hear things that creep me out: heavy footsteps, hearing the door open, or someone talk.. just stuff that makes me think a serial killer broke into the house. I’ve come to realize that they’re not real, but nonetheless, they’re still just as terrifying.
It would be kinda funny if someday they were real and I wouldn’t realize it, and instead of calling 911, I’d be too busy convincing myself that it wasn’t real and just in my head, and then I’d end up getting murdered.
I was eventually able to open up to my parents about this, and we are seeking help. Just gotta finish some insurance paperwork, which is taking fucking ages. (btw, dear America, can you please fix your fucking medical insurance shit? It’s absolutely dreadful and a huge pain in the ass!!)