the book i am reading has me so frightened of dark unlit rooms now. i keep picturing this grotesquely styled ballerina prancing around in them, wanting to take over her mother’s life. (you have to read the book to get it.)

i remember being less afraid of the dark when i was younger. i have no idea why i’d be scared now at the age of eighteen. when i was around five or six, my mom would lock me in the garage for about 15 minutes if i did something bad. is that considered abuse? anyway, i’d definitely learn my lesson, though. as much i loved the smell of the gasoline from my dad’s old car (yuck) and the dark regions of the garage, i hated staying in there for even 15 minutes alone. so one day, i managed to steal the key that worked on the garage door’s lock from my mom’s keychain. and the next time i got into trouble with my mom and she threw me into the gas dungeon, after two minutes i’d have unlocked the door and be romping around the living room. my mom never realized that i had the key. i think i lost it shortly after that achievement in mischief.

nice site plug: plasticglow.net/inject