Do Not Respond, Just Take It. 

Dear Twitter,
I come to hang out with you to see all my friends and celebrities I wish were my friends be quippy and brilliant in fewer than 140 characters. I do NOT come to you to have that feed interrupted by the trailer for the newest scary movie Lights Out. Do not show me this. I am now scared and alone in my house. This is unfair. Stay in your lane. 

Dear Jordan,
Thank you for your morbid curiosity that led you to also watch this trailer, but one of us has got to be the one who says "no" to these things. Thank you for narrating what's happening in the trailer as it unfolds so that it's less scary for us both: "Oh. So, okay. So they're gonna turn the lights out and then that thing is gonna be there. Aaaaand there it is. Light on, no thing. Lights out, the thing. Okay. I get it. And now it'll probably get closer to the camera. Yep, yep, it's closer. Okay. That's fine. I was expecting that. Okay." I love you so much and you are the best. 

Dear YouTube Suggestions Section,
The fact that in your suggestions was not only the trailer for this movie, after we clicked on it, after we saw it on Twitter, but also the SHORT FILM THIS MOVIE WAS INSPIRED BY, is not cool. Because OBVIOUSLY we're gonna click on that, too. I have not screamed out loud at a movie or trailer in...maybe ever, actually. But the end of that short film? Screamed. Blew Jordan's eardrums out. Scarred for life. Your fault. Pay for my therapy. 

Dear Children/Villains/Ghouls in Lights Out,
How will you ever recover from having been so scary?? Do you have that moment where you think someone is sneaking up behind you and then feel guilty because you personally have caused that moment for millions of viewers? I hope you lose sleep over this. I hope you accidentally catch your reflection in the mirror and it scares you because you remember how scary you were in that movie one time. I hope there's some kind of support group that Linda Blair founded for you people. 

Dear Random Lamp in my Living Room,
I'm sorry I almost attacked you last night because I thought your shadow was some sort of paranormal presence, even though I don't believe in that stuff. ...mostly. Blame all of the aforementioned sources of angst for that. Don't hate me. Love you. 

Dear Alarm System,
Thank you for providing me with the comfort of knowing that anyone who would ever try to break into our house would not only be immediately apprehended, but also immediately deafened by the sound you produce when you are set off. Thank you for making sure we don't die of carbon monoxide poisoning or a fire or flood. Could you also include a feature for ghost detection? I think it would sell big. Think about it. 

Dear The Office,
Have you ever heard of a thundershirt? You know, those compression jackets you put on dogs to calm them down when there's a bad storm? That's what you do for me. Especially after seeing something scary. I can always count on you, The Office. You're the third person in my marriage. Well, fourth. Me, Jordan, Jordan's beard, and you. Gonna need you later tonight when I turn the lights off and get scared again. 

Dear Ghosts, 
I am a nice lady and I'll give you whatever you want in exchange for not scaring me. I'm a good baker. Interested? Let's negotiate.