I am housesitting for my aunt, and last night was the first time I had to spend alone in the house. Knowing that, I probably should have decided against going down her horror movie, serial killer basement in the dark.
I am fearless. I am. But I am also human and get creeped out. I also have a very vivid imagination whose favorite hobby is thinking of different, often not pleasant, scenarios that could play out.
Still, I stuck out the night. By myself. In a house where the fridge can sound like there is a hornet living in it. That has poor insulation making different rooms feel colder than others, including the bedroom. But that also has a lot of lights and a TV in both the living room and the bedroom.
By the time morning came, I felt better. Through bravery and a refusal to give into the idea that there is something lurking in the basement that I would not be able to handle, I proved that I could do it. I could handle the creepiness. Which is good because creepiness is part of life.