pho·bia - \ˈfō-bē-ə\

: an exaggerated usually inexplicable and illogical fear of a particular object, class of objects, or situation

We had our first thunderstorm of the year last night, it was awesome. I love a good light show. Aside from the visuals, the noises are great too. Inanimate objects come to life and are put into motion. Plastic bags take flight and empty garbage cans skate across the cement. It's all so whimsical and exciting.

Then i got to thinking, and my erratic fear kicked in. For me, thunderstorms also bring in the foreshadowing of what's to come in the morning.

Them.

Spring rain means that underground dwellers' homes become flooded. They're forced to wiggle out of the ground and meet the air upstairs. All of the work they've put into burrowing and wriggling into the ground becomes lost. A soggy, murky, tunnel of doom. This is where my own personal hell is laid out in front of me.

Worms.
Dead, engorged, dirt-ridden worms.

Some freshly emerged, curling and uncurling against the surface. Some newly lifeless and limp, slick with earth. Some dried up like a frizzled onion garnish on your steak at T.G.I Fridays. No matter what form they are in, they evoke something inside of me that is simply ungodly. I'm forced to strategically step around their lazy, bloated bodies and it angers me. A sea of emotions swimming around inside of me.

Panic, anger, nerves, anxiousness, terror, revoltion, shortness of breath.

I know it's stereotypically common for girls to shriek at the sight of bugs but, oh no. This is on an entirely different plane. It could be their lack of feet or maybe the fact that they don't have eyes, but given the two they still manage to get around. Cut their tail off and that won't slow them down. You know what? They'll just grow another. They don't have teeth, but they can eat. Doesn't anyone else see that something completely deranged is going on here??

Is their motive of swarming dead bodies not questionable? Multiplying and festering in eye sockets and nipping at flesh folds (may i remind you, without teeth). And it's never just one or two. They call their mothers, grandparents, neighbors, sisters, town mayor, aunts & uncles. A breathing, pulsing cluster of death-eaters.

How can this be ok?

I'm convinced that worms are the spawn of Satan. Oh yes. They come to fester in the dark and feed on your loved ones after they've passed on. And you know what? Even the earth itself doesn't like them. The literal soil, the earth that lies beneath our feet. I know because why else would Earth spit them out like hair-in-the-mouth after it rains?

Religious people may argue that this is all a part of God's blueprints. That worms too, are children of God. Therefore they automatically have purpose and rite of passage. And on the opposite spectrum, those that believe in science, rather than religion, may similarly believe that every species has a purpose of being on this earth - even if only for organic reasons. That they deserve to live and die, just as i do. That when i die, the worms will come to eat me - and will do a fine job of cleaning up my mess of a corpse. Providing nutrients of my worm-digested body back into the earth, where a dandelion will now have an energy source to pull from in order to create a life of it's own. That everything comes full circle. A place for everything, and everything in it's place.

You know what? I don't care. I'm not convinced.

Worms, I'm onto you.

Scoleciphobia | Helminthophobia | Taeniophobia | Teniophobia

junkie

Just now in my early morning fog, i thought about you - my old friend.
...and it made me realize how much better my life would be if you were back in it.

You sped up my heartbeat, gave me the jitters, and mostly - waking up with you in the morning was serene and satisfying.

Coffee, i'm talking about you. Oh yes.

I'd given you up but as I sit here and take you in, the guilt-to-euphoria ratio is leaning heavily to the east.

Stain my teeth, raise my blood pressure, alter my sleep pattern. It's me and you, babe.