I am a leftie, and I guess I fit into the lefties stereotype pretty well (except for being smart and good at maths). I get scared and freak out quite easily, and I like thinking, imagining and creating. But to be honest, I don't know if I am what I am because I am born a leftie; or is it because adults all tell me about the lefties stereotype, and therefore, during my growth, I unconsciously morphed myself into that stereotype. Anyway, that is not what I want to talk about today.
What I want to talk about is imagination, and imagining things. People say having a wide imagination is a good thing. Well, sometimes it is. It is good for my writing, creating, and also my daily pondering of random ideas. But sometimes, it isn't so good. I used to be scared of my own imagination when I was a kid (even now too, sometimes. I'm so ashamed.) I would imagine things, and then freak myself out.
When I was small, I didn't dare to shower alone. I was afraid of the bathroom. I thought some worms or blood will come out of the shower head and I will be drenched in those horrible stuff. When I flush the toilet, there would be a hand reaching out for me from the toilet bowl because, oh no, I must have flushed somebody down. The little ditch-like thingy behind the toilet? Some cockroaches and spiders and unknown species of ugly animals will sneak out from there and climb onto me. And don't look at the mirror when I go to the bathroom at night, someone will be behind me. When somewhere itches during shower, oh gosh, someone must be in the shower with me, someone I can't see, touching me. And that would be when I scream out for my mom to rescue me.
Some psychopaths must be hiding behind that door up there in the back staircase leading to the roof at my grandparent's apartment building. That huge (huge to me when I was small, it's tiny now) claw-like dent on the concrete in the platform of the back staircase must be a dinosaur footprint. There must be a dinosaur roaming in the corridors and stairwells of the building, I must run as fast as I can to my grandparent's apartment and ring the bell like hell. Oh no, I shan't. That's not polite, but please someone come quickly to open the door and let me in. Some animal is barking, oh no, it must be a wolf or a fierce animal of that sort.
I must be born super ugly and deformed, but yet, so loved that my used-to-be rich parents used all of their savings to pay off all the mirror manufacturers in the world to produce magical mirrors (and transform mirrors that already exist into the magical ones) that made me look normal to my eyes so that I won't feel as bad.
Instead of pretending to be doctors, teachers and air hostesses and etc. I pretended to be a refugee of some sort, running away from soldiers that were hunting me down. I would hide with my plushies under the blanket in my mom's room, and my helper would be the soldier who would approach nearer to the room and then went to look for me somewhere else farther. (In actuality, she is just doing household chores around the house, not minding me at all.)
Whenever people say how good being able to imagine things is, I shake my head deep down inside and murmur to myself, "oh no, you did not just say that." The thing is, imagination scares me sometimes. This is a reason why I don't ever watch scary horror movies. My friends all tell me that it is not that scary and it's just a movie. I know it's just a movie, and I am not that scared of the movie. I am scared of what twisted versions of the already horrific and frightening images my imagination will generate after seeing the movie.
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