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Ever since graduation day, the only TV shows and movies that keep me riveted to my seat belong to the horror genre. I’ve been spending the past couple of weeks downloading and renting out my favorite horror flicks from childhood (Stephen King’s It), re-watching old favorites (Silent Hill, A Tale of Two Sisters), as well as checking out horror films recommended by hoity-toity film critics (The Innocents, Invasion of the Body Snatchers and Repulsion). Those that fell under the latter simply bored me to death–too slow paced, not enough blood. Proof, perhaps, that my taste in films is horribly unsophisticated and that I clearly don’t have what it takes to be a hoity-toity critic. Let’s strike that career option off the list.

Supernatural horror films–the ones that involve Japanese women crawling out of the TV or peering at you from under the covers–scare me the most, because my imagination is horribly vivid and I can actually see those ghostly figures in my bedroom, in the dark. I usually avoid ghost movies unless I’m feeling unusually masochistic, or am in the mood to make my fellow moviegoers go deaf. I’ve been told that my operatic shrieks of terror has the potential to break ear-drums.

My favorite sub-category of horror is something I like to refer to as gore-ror (I’m not clever enough to have coined the term; I believe I picked it up from someone). They’re usually psychological horror films or films with minor supernatural elements that are characterized by extreme violence. I’m talking about skulls being crushed open, people being skinned alive, zombies being torn to shreds, humans being devoured by the undead. Nothing makes me jump up and down in my seat like an overactive five-year old than watching someone’s guts spilling on the floor. The more violent the movie is, the happier I am.

One of my favorite gore-ror movies is a little-known film called May. It’s about this girl who couldn’t make friends as a child because of a facial deformity. As an adult, she tries desperately to form friendships and relationships but fails at this due to her lack of social experience. What I love about this movie (spoiler alert: you might want to scroll down to the YouTube video below) is how she kills off all her friends and her ex-boyfriend, chops off their limbs, and sews them up into one big doll. “If you can’t find a friend, make one,” was her mother’s advice as a child. I found that whole mass murder scene very, very satisfying. Like May, I too chop off parts of people that I find beautiful and sew them up to create my ideal person. Unlike May, however, I only do this figuratively. My ideal person (or ideal guy, if you will) is an intricate combination of so many parts from so many people that my biggest fear that he only exists in my head. But I’m young and I’ve only been single for a few months–I’m in no real hurry to make my creation come to life.

Another reason why I love May is because my future husband Jeremy Sisto (Billy from Six Feet Under) is in it, oozing with more sex and manliness than usual. Those broad shoulders! His large, gorgeous, hands! Those shapely lips! His fuck-me curly hair! Jeremy Sisto could use my face to shine his shoes and I’d walk away feeling like a million dollars.

Upon deeper reflection, I think my recent fascination for gore-ror flicks is a result of my quarter-life crisis. Whenever I watch arteries spraying blood and intestines hanging out of people’s stomachs, I can feel every little insecurity I have about myself leave my body and join the blood on the walls. The sight of blood in real life makes me want to vomit, but gore-ror films never make me sick to my stomach. They allow me to live out my deviant thoughts in a more socially-accepted manner. When the credits roll, I feel as clean and pure as a newborn baby, ready to grab the world by the balls (and stuff them down its throat).