My Own Worst Enemy

Having a vivid imagination can be a very bad thing.

I’ve always had a very active imagination, that’s why I love to write, draw and do all manner of creative things. The only problem is that your imagination can turn on you.

Last night, I was sitting at my desk, doing a few lessons from my drawing course when I got up to go and get something to drink.

When I returned to my desk I found my sketchbook closed with my pencil on top of it. I paused for a moment. I was sure I remembered leaving the sketchbook open and my pencil to the side.

“Nah.” I thought. “It’s a new sketchbook, the spine’s still stiff. Because I wasn’t holding it down, the front probably just flipped over.”

My sketchbook is hard-cover and bound just like a normal hard-backed book. It wasn’t totally unfeasible that it ‘closed itself’

Suddenly, that little voice in my head said:

“Yeah, that could happen…but how did your pencil get on top of that two inch thick book without assistance?”

Now, at this point, a normal person would shrug, sit back down and start drawing again. They’d put it down to a trick of the mind and just assume they’d closed it themselves without thinking.

Me, however, with my overactive imagination, instantly thought “OMGWTFBBQ!!!! GHOSTS!!!!”

There’s a part of my brain that’s always on that loves to invent stories. Think if it as a biological ‘muse’. This is the part of my brain that will see an ordinary, everyday object and twist it in some way to make it interesting. It’s the part of my brain that looks at a Tivo and thinks ‘Heh, imagine if you got one of them and found it could record tomorrow’s shows! You could use it to win the lottery…but what if you saw a news report that reported your death? Then you try to stop it, but in the end it’s your trying to stop it that causes your death in the first place!”

…and that’s how I aced my writing course at University.

Unfortunately, this part of my brain never knows when to just shut the fuck up.

So I’m standing in my living room, glass of Kool-Aid in my hand and staring at my sketchbook…and my brain’s working overtime.

“Hey! What if you opened it and found writing in it? Writing that was in, like, totally creepy handwriting! What if it’s in blood?”

Shut up, Brain.

“No, think about it. Ghostly writing could mean anything! Maybe someone snuck into the house a while ago and the second you sit down and open the book, they’ll clonk you on the back of the head while you’re distracted!”

I said shut up, Brain.

“Maybe it’s worse. Maybe it is ghosts, and it’s all like ‘GET OUT!’ Sunny’s at work and won’t be back for another 6 hours. You’d have to wait outside…but then where would you live? We both know you’re not gonna step foot back inside this house if it’s haunted. You could sleep in the car, but is sleeping in a car just outside a haunted house any different from sleeping in one?”

You’re about to take a screwdriver to the frontal lobe if you don’t shut it.

“I GOT IT! Maybe you’ve gone totally freaking batshit insane and developed a totally new personality. You know, two people sharing the same body but you’re not consciously aware of each other. You’ll open that book and find a ton of freaky shit written in your own handwriting! It’ll be all ‘DIEDIEDIEKILLKILLBLOODBLOODDEATH!!!’ and then you won’t be able to trust yourself around anyone, because you’ll never know when you’re going to wake up standing over a body with a bloody knife in your hand.”

SHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUP.

“Pffft, relax dude! One minute you’re all ‘come on brain, make with the story ideas’, the next it’s ‘Shut yer big fat gob!’. They’re only stories, you know!”

I know, but it’s 3am, it’s dark in here, I’m alone and all this is totally unsettling.

“Oh, just open the sketchbook. All that’s gonna be there is that drawing you were working on.”

I know.

“So open it then.”

I’m going to.

“Some time this year, perhaps?”

You know…I’ve had enough of drawing for today, I think I’ll watch TV instead.

“Heh…Imagine if you turned on the TV and there was this ghostly face on it and it was all ‘GET OUT!!!’, and you unplugged the TV but the face wouldn’t go away!”

Fuck that shit. I’m going to bed.