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In 2017 I lived in a haunted house for 1 year. It was a really adorable home in Texas - stone walls and cacti around the perimeter; lots of direct sunlight; close to the local coffeeshop - it didn’t appear to be inhabited by something Other. It was one of those situations that seemed like it was “fine until it wasn’t” except it wasn’t ever really fine - the feet shuffling noises at night; the voice that sounded like tires on gravel and felt like breath that was too hot to be breathe at all over my face as I slept; the profound sadness that made a space for itself in the corner of the kitchen by the fridge, perhaps long before I moved in.

Perhaps silly or dramatic, or neither, but I didn’t think I was ever going to make it out of that place. I sank deeper and deeper into that specific brand of void and when I finally emerged I was left with a stain from the experience, taking the form of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. The body is an odd thing. After spending a while in survival mode, physical manifestations from emotions can appear. For me, this was intense stress and fear causing migraines. The longest migraine I have ever had, directly from the aforementioned living arrangement, lasted 2 months straight. 60 days. 1,440 hours. 86,400 minutes. During that year, I lost almost all of my friends (and sanity) - my grades dropped; I slept during the day because I was too afraid to close my eyes at night.