Warning: May contain small spoilers.
As an avid movie lover, I find myself watching the same carbon-copy renditions of romantic comedies. With each movie rewatched, I grow increasingly more and more disappointed in the lack luster events that occur throughout the two hour long video. The overused plots grew into a small hatred for my once favored genre of movie. Perhaps it was the indescribable need for a change of scenario in the film world or the self-growth I needed to go through in order to enjoy cliche movies again. Who knows the exact formula that lead me to horror and suspense, but either way, I went down said rabbit hole.
I knew that something had to be different, however, the only catch: I despise scary movies. Although, I also knew that facing my fears and jumping into what seemingly felt like a creepy unknown is a necessity in life. So, determined to be able to get through a picture length, jump scare saga, I started off watching Happy Death Day, mid-afternoon, sunshining, with the comforts of my roommate sitting across from me in her own bed. Relaxed, I deemed the movie to be an entry level gateway into the world of horror. For me, beginner’s luck plagued me with the idea that this was going to be as scary as it gets, so I took it a step further. The Conjuring, something said to have been based on real events, I knew that this was going to be much harder to swallow than the poisonous cupcake from the film before.
Terrified, I began to rewatch that same movie back and forth, until I could depict reality and embellishment. Movie after movie, with little jolts of fear later, I was more stubborn than ever. I knew the only way to truly experience all aspects of the film world, and in all honesty, my own world, was to continue watching staple blockbusters of the horror and suspense category. It was imperative that I could know I had the ability to branch out and be open to anything, movie or not. So here we are, reaching the climax of the plot, the hardest obstacle to me. It. Was it the scary clown that got me? Or the inevitable fear that these children went through what they feared most in the world coming to life? It didn’t matter. We ordered chinese food, and there, on my dorm room floor, my roommate and I sat through the whole thing, the occasional scream escaping my tightly shut mouth, teeth clamped, and fingers clutching the fork that held together both my broccoli chicken and my will.
As the credits began to display themselves on cue with the final scene, the eerie music rang in my ears, but, surprisingly it was tuned out by the pride I had within myself. The final scene is simple: the journey of the protagonist came out smiling and lived happily ever after with the romantic comedies that followed. The lesson that came with said journey was simple as well: do what scares you, because life without risks isn’t truly living.