Guys, I’m going to get very personal with all of you. It might be uncomfortable. That’s okay. That’s part of the point of horror.
So often we write and enjoy other forms of horror to escape the reality of our lives. We find the metaphor of destroying the things that suck away our energy when the high school cheerleader slays the vampire. We shiver with empathy when the ghost haunts the house and we remember the parts of our past that linger with us, replaying in our minds over and over again.
Sometimes our personal demons try to be stronger than us. They call us names and tell us we suck. They scare us and make us believe that we will, in fact, die by their hand because there is no way we can possibly survive them. They seem evil, monstrous, and so, so, so very dark.
Perhaps the worst horror is the horror of despair. It takes away joy. It isolates. It lies.
Despair can be fought, but it takes courage. Small steps and reaching out to others is the beginning. Maybe we notice someone is aching, so we say, “I’m here for you.” Or we pick up the phone and make an appointment to see a doctor because we know the way we feel isn’t right.
It does get better, guys. It isn’t always easy, but the demons can be pushed back into the darkness.
This was not the blog post I had intended for Scream Queens today, and so what? Some things just need to be said.