Don’t sleep. Clowns may eat you.

Some of you may know that I suffer from coulrophobia. Some of you may have even mocked me for it. Openly. One person recently even kept reminding me as I carefully made sure to walk around instead of over sewer grates… “that we all float down here” *SHUDDER*

My only problem with that label is, first, that the word phobia means an irrational fear of something. And seriously, can’t we all agree that there is nothing irrational about hating….clowns. Yes, clowns.

Ok, seriously, I kind of exaggerate. It’s not really a hatred or even really a fear. In fact, I”m not sure how to explain the way I now feel about clowns. I say I hate them…but it’s not “hate” in the purest sense of the word. Imagine if you were walking down the street and some strange man approached you and started touching under your chin. You would want him to get the hell away from you as fast as possible, right? THAT is how I feel about clowns. They are creepy, and they make me uncomfortable.

When I see a clown, I don’t want to hurt them. But… if someone else hurt said clown… well, I would admit to feeling that the cosmic balance in our world was somehow returning to an equilibrium. They somehow would deserve it, right? After all, they are creepy clowns… *shudder*

Like I said above, I know I am mocked for how I feel about clowns and for what I do when a clown is around me. Go ahead. I don’t care. There is nothing irrational about the way I feel. And I am not ashamed. In fact, I am proud of being the only rational person in a sea of people who are mistakenly indifferent to clowns. Didn’t any of you see “IT? Poltergeist?” Come on… I challenge you…name one movie where the clown was nice and not creepy… and Bozo doesn’t count.

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