The writeup of my weekend hasn't been finished, as some of you are quick to note. But, I just haven't felt up to finishing it right now. My brain is weary and I have entirely too much sensory overflow. Too much implant. This wee little brain can only hold so much.
I rub my eyes and light another cigarette. Plug another song into my player. Today has been a day of searching for MP3s, but without knowing what exactly it is I'm searching for. I keep listening to "Dear God" by XTC over and over again. And every time, it kicks my in the heart.
I'm not quite sure why, really.
It's the strength of the words. The conviction found behind his voice. The pain. The sadness. And the longing for absolution and completion.
Things I can identify with all too well.
A talk with Thee Pumpkin Girl last night revealed that she re-met the scary zombie scarecrow on stilts and his friend, Head Cage Zombie (which you may remember from my account of my Horrorfind weekend). They recognised her as the "friend of the girl who ducked under the table when she saw us coming."
Apparently, they had thought I was just playing along. And were a bit confused and angry at The Engineer's reaction. Truth be told, I was only half playing around. And half scared out of my mind. When I am confronted by someone in a mask, especially when I don't know said someone personally, all the neurons start misfiring in my brain. I shut down and can only think one thing. flee.
I really can't help it, it's not something which I can control. No matter how much anyone tells me how ridiculous the act truly is. I couldn't explain enough times that night to everyone that I wasn't really just a big baby. Even standing there talking to Heb, as she wore the pig mask bought earlier that day, I couldn't take it. I would take a step back. And she, either messing with me or not understanding why I was stepping away, would take a step forward.
And I feel like a huge doofus because of it. That my reality is so askew in my head, that I can't even take something as simple as a Halloween fright mask. Especially when one of my greatest and truest loves in life is horror movies.
Ahh, but on the screen it is a completely different story. And it's a subject which I have been known to expound upon at great length. The safe scare which can be found in a horror movie. You watch it, snug on your couch or in your bedroom, completely content in the knowledge that it is fake. That none of this is actually happening to you. It still gives you a thrill to watch the atrocities which unfold on the screen, but it is a small and inconsquential thrill. At most, it only gives you a few unruly dreams.
Now, imagine being confronted with the same dreamscape. Only in the flesh. It's a different story completely now, isn't it? You see the person in the mask. You can touch them, if you so desire. But in your mind, back in the primordial recesses which are only rarely accessed, you fear. You giggle nervously and try to play it off.
It was humiliating, what I did. The diving under the table and screaming. It reminds of when I was younger and my brothers would chase me through the house wearing masks, with fake plastic knives. And how they laughed at me when I would lock myself in the bathroom for hours and refuse to step foot out.
This only multiplied, as I grew older.
Out of all the things which I wish I could change about myself, the one I hold most close to my heart and wish for the strongest, is the desire to be normal.
Normal and unbroken.