Closed shower curtains make me insanely nervous. Every time I walk into a bathroom, close the door, and then notice that lightly swaying closed shower curtain, my insides go a little cold. I can’t do anything else before I creep toward it as quietly as possible, reach out a tentative hand, and pull it back like I’m ripping off a band-aid. I have no idea what I’d do if I actually found something there. I mean, if there was a zombie or a dead cat or a horrible moldy eco-system, I’d still have to pee and it’s not like I make a habit of bringing weapons with me into other people’s bathrooms. But I can’t help it. The what-if looming around every closed door and unknown space is too compelling.
I think the problem is that I’m always disappointed that my life doesn’t play out like a movie, and that makes me subconsciously worry that it actually does play out like a movie, but not the kind that I want to be in. I clearly don’t live in a sparkly musical. Adding to that problem is the fact that I have a well-developed and horrible imagination. Years of Lovecraft and horror movies have made me worry about the things outside of my peripheral vision. I’m left to curse and thank books, movies, and the internet for expanding my horizons. I’m too curious to look away, even if it will change my perceptions irrevocably.