I Hate Death.

Ever since I was old enough to know what being scared is, I've been scared of everything. Until I moved in with Chris, I slept with the tv on every night because I don't like being left in the dark. Before I had a tv in my room I slept with the door open and had to go to sleep before my parents went to bed. If that didn't happen, I lay panicing in the dark until my parents were downstairs so that I could turn the lights on and exhaust myself to sleep by coloring or reading or whatever.

Now that I live with Chris, I can't sleep if I'm not physically touching him. He makes me feel protected and secure. The 4 days he was in St. Louis were awful. I was awake until the sun came up because I couldn't sleep in the dark by myself. It's insane.

It's all because I fear death.

I'm terrified of dying. When I finally moved away from home, I called my mom at least once a day to check on her. My sister too. I still call my mom more frequently than is probably normal. I just always had this sick feeling like they were going to die, and no one would bother telling me. I panic watching other people speed down the highway. People running red lights make me flinch. I get goosebumps and shivers and nauseaous whenever I pass a dead animal on the road. I just hate death.

Chris loves zombie movies and videogames. He likes playing Left 4 Dead and now Dead Space...Well, I guess Dead Space isn't really zombies, but the crew is killed and then reanimated in scary alien form, but those are just technicalities. I can't watch Chris play Left 4 Dead and then go right to sleep. If he has to use the bathroom before he goes to sleep, I lay in bed awake watching out the window in an absolute panic until he comes to bed. I can't sleep if I'm not directly against the wall. If you try to put me in a spot near the door, I go crazy. I also can't be the one who finally turns out the light before bed.

If I wake up in the middle of the night, I have to spend 5 minutes talking myself into getting out of bed and going to the bathroom or to get a drink or my inhaler. Can you believe it? I'd rather lie in bed unable to breathe than get up and face the dark and almost certain death? It's irrational. I'm terrified that if I let my hands or feet hang over the edge of the bed, some dead and rotting thing will grab them and drag me under. I even worry about Chris. If something were to happen to him and he were turned into a zombie or monster, would he be the one to kill me?

These things eat away at me. I don't like being home alone. I don't like driving at night. I really don't like the dark. And I hate that someday I'll need to come to terms with this. I'm not sure I'll ever have it in me to not be afraid.