I read fanfiction and I read nonfiction, but it has been a very long time since I just read fiction. It’s odd to realise this, but at the same time I recognise that my value of time has changed. If my activities are not productive I tend to feel my time has been wasted, or I feel guilty that I haven’t learned something.

Little kids’ horror stories are so much more terrifying than adult ones.

For example, when I was a child, I was told by another kid that there was a pair of conjoined twins that had been born connected at the mouth, and whenever one got the flu they would throw up down the other one’s throat.

I mean, that’s gross and kiddy and just, ew. But as an adult that story only gets worse. Do they eat through their noses or a stomach pump? They can’t talk! How do they see people without being in pain by twisting their lips?

Childish horror creatures are terrifying.