Happy Halloween to every single one of you dear readers.

Tell me, what is it that frightens you the most? What are the most terrifying parts of your worst nightmare? What do you have in common with your worst fear?

These are the questions I asked myself during a very peculiar psychotherapy session, and I decided to preserve the questions in time by turning my answers into a drawing.

So, what is it that I fear the most?

Without any doubt I have to say Foxy from FNAF 1. This broken down animatronic hunted my mind for weeks after I first laid eyes upon him, watching a let’s play of the first game I found all animatronics to be unnerving (especially Chica), but nothing could ever compare to the horror I felt when foxy fist ran down the hallway into the office.

For the next two weeks I was unable to sleep, foxy would prowl my dreams and his scream would jump me back into awareness. I would lock myself in my room terrorized by any knocking on my door, and so my trauma became ingrained. To this day I feel panic when confronted with Foxy’s in game image.

What is so frightening about foxy in my eyes?

The FNAF bunch is a very interesting one. Not only do they inhabit the depths of the uncanny valley. They also take part in a murder supernatural mistery revolving the deaths of children.

But foxy is special, his behavior is unique and is the only one “damaged” of the main 4 animatronics. In summary: Foxy is the broken down animatronic of a pirate fox that one must pay attention to but not too much, has a foul smell, and may be stuffed with the rotting corpse of a child; while being posed by the ghost of said child.

What could foxy and I possibly have in common?

More than I originally thought.

As it turns out, I myself am a very excentric person, behaving peculiar ways and being generally secretive. However I also crave for attention, so must strife for balance between wanting to be seen and my desire for privacy.

Also, I’ve been target of various pejorative language because of my physique, sexual orientation and fetishes; words like those have made me feel as if I was broken or damaged in some way, also forcing me into a pantomime of what I think is “normal male behavior” resulting in a hollow, lifeless imitation that felt terribly unnatural.

And now comes the heavy stuff. You see dear reader, I once had a pet cat, one that died all too young. In the face of death I felt impossibly weak and useless, despite the fact that I was only 15 years old. I carried that grief and pain within me during years as it festered into self-loathing and in recent months I discovered just how poorly I thought of myself because I was unable to save that cat.

And lastly, I am a Furry, not to mention the fact that a fox is pretty much the logo of FA.

So you see dear reader, it turns out that Foxy and I were very much alike. As I left therapy that day I realized that I fear foxy because I fear the day I can no longer hide my more private self. However, I also desire for release, more than anything I long for the day when I no longer have to pretend. Such contradictions, and yet such a joyous suffering, all in the hopes of one day running towards that office; out of the cameras and screens and into direct, close and personal contact.