Why do I chance to stay here in this house that wants me dead? Well then I consider the alternative, which is a world (much larger) that would like to see me destroyed as well.
I always told myself that if I ever lived in a haunted house I’d just move. Why be like one of those families that just “stick it out” because it is their “home” and they love the house and are certain to explain away the problems/spiritual-overtaking, or can get a paranormal expert to come in and cleanse the house.
Have you ever ruined a shirt or pair of pants? Gotten a stain so deep into them that they are worthless as regular day-to-day clothing in the normal world? Ever encountered something you simply couldn’t fix? Sure the stain can fade – but the imperfection is still there. With each washing the rest of the fabric wears down and becomes weaker, a mere shadow of its former sturdy self. That’s what you are asking for if you want to try and “fix” your haunted house. You may diminish the whatever-decided-to live-with-you, but you can never truly rid yourself of it.
So why not just leave? Run away and never look back – become the person you want to be after shedding those final ties to that God forsaken house. Its just wood and nails after all, right? Not really.
The stain is set, and just like a ruined jersey that grinds into the rest of the clothing in your hamper – the stain spreads. Well the stain is spreading. I feel my house hate me, while also needing me. I feel myself wanting to escape these sometimes-darkened walls, while also needing the solace of the warden made of 2×4 timbers.
Is this an addiction? Am I addicted to my house? What part of me desires this unnerving and soul tapping fear?
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