Insects. They are all, without exception, creepy, sneaky bastards with hidden agendas and too many legs.
Though I know they can't actually do anything to me. And you can tell me as many times as you like that "they're more scared of you than you are of them" - but that won't stop me contemplate moving house if I find a spider in my bath.
And I don't think that's true. That it's more scared of me. I am large, it is tiny; making me a very obvious threat. It is therefore an expectation, a daily peril in the life of any insect; the potential to be crushed by the uncaring foot of man. I personally have never seen a spider run away, all my experiences involve them coming at me, towards me at speed - behaviour not consistent with a frightened creature, but an arrogant, mocking one.
And I know they can't hurt me. I know the worst they could do is fly about in my face a bit or crawl up my ankle - not life threatening. Why the paralysing terror then?
No idea.
I cannot rationalise it. I cannot understand it or attach any logic to it, and so it is magnified, multiplied. It is my inability to find its root which makes it most terrifying.
FM
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