Watched Saw 3 last night. From my degenerative level of grammar/form/structure or whatever it’s called, you can infer that I didn’t sleep much. Trapped between the realm of awake and asleep, my dreams (if you could call them dreams. More like hallucinations and visions that frequented the quiet darkness of my room) haunted me. They felt so real, and since I was half awake, I genuinely believed they were. I convicned myself that there was someone in my closet wearing a hog’s head and with a syringe of something or rather. Or that if I moved, I would activate a trap. Worse, if I turned around to look if there were anything in my room, I’d be stabbed with said syringe. If I were to take a step out of bed, my foot would be diced by razors. So I lay there, quietly, inconspicuously, waiting for daylight, or better yet, sleep.

Saw 3 is not a scary movie. I just take paranoia to the next level, and then some. God… If my room were booby trapped, I’d try and set them all off at once, because I’d much rather die than be that scared of dying. At least, that’s what I’d say now. If I were chained to the middle of a room with a jar full of nails and a timebomb, I’d probably try and get out. But if it were a quick and reasonably painless death (ie. head ripped open by reverse bear-trap), I could handle waiting for the clock to run out. But if it were digging through a pit of syringes, fuck that, I’d just find a weak point in the structure of the house and focus on getting out and finding a hospital. But don’t mind me, I’m still just a widdle cranky. Note: This is not a test. Do not put me in a life threatining situation to see my response. Everyone surrounding me will die.


One thought on “Jigsaw

  1. Ivy says:

    I don’t know why you go and torture yourself like that, watching a movie like Saw 3.

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