Growing up, I didn't really fear much. Swimming in a pool or lake was fun for me. The thought of death never phased me. I had slept in a sleeping bag many times. I had never seen an armadillo besides in pictures, and thought they were cute in their own way. I was fine with most insects, but there was one particular arachnid that just irked me in a certain indescribable way: spiders. Eight creepy, crawly legs. Eight giant eyes creepily watching me like a stalker watches its victim from behind a bush where it cannot see. The thought of those eyes upon me or the feeling of those legs upon my skin gave me the chills for years.
As I have grown up, my fear of spiders has developed into a shear hatred. I kill every spider I see, ridding the world of the thing I feared my entire life, one by one, until they are no longer there to glare at me. I guess I face my fears in the wrong way.
