Sometimes I think about what it would be like to live alone. Not that I want to live alone - living with Chris is working out very nicely for me. I just think about what it would be like: what would be easier, what would be more difficult. Stuff like that. Mostly I think I would be fine, though not very happy. But still able to cope.
Then Chris goes to a stupid midnight Magic release and I am left to my own devices overnight. This makes me realize just how deep my terror of being alone runs. Something about the dark just puts all my fears into overdrive. Is something on fire? Is someone breaking in? What if I am abducted by aliens? What if there is a ghost/demon? All of these mostly unreasonable thoughts just race through my head and I am rendered almost entirely unable to function. Somehow it is better if I am downstairs, although I am not entirely sure why. So I sat on the sofa watching Dexter until 3:00 am, when I decided I was finally exhausted enough that my tiredness would win out over my fear and I would be able to fall asleep.
Not so much. Instead I spent the next hour wide-eyed and terrified, ears straining to listen for weird sounds. Eventually I must have fallen asleep, because I woke up this morning covered in cats, blessed sunlight streaming in through the windows. I really don't know what my problem is, but I do know that it is probably good I don't live alone.