Despite the stupidity I feel after sharing my fear with people, it still lingers with me. To most people, it is an insignificant, irrational fear with no basis, but not in my head. Right about now you are probably asking yourself, "What on earth could it be?- Once I share it though, there is a ninety-nine percent grantee you will chuckle, roll your eyes, and just flat out think I am an idiot. Because that is the normal reaction, and I have become accustomed to it, here it goes "worms. Yes, worms "the kind that crawl through dirt, and are totally, utterly, and completely harmless. Before you go into wild hysterics, please listen to the story behind it. .
I was five or so and "helping- my parents plant trees behind our house. Holding a little white cup, I was in charge of collecting all the worms that were dug up from the holes. As each new worm emerged from the dirt, it was immediately relocated to my "holding-tank."" I suppose there was some secret worm gathering somewhere else because my cup was scantly filled. There was a few enough number of worms that I was able to count how many I had in my possession. I went to put another one in, successfully I thought, but when I took an inventory, the little thing was gone. I looked on the ground beneath be, but the worm was nowhere to be seen. In light of my defeat, I said to myself, "Oh well,"" and continued. Later on, I switched cup-holding hands, and right there, on the back of my palm, was the worm. It scared me so much; I shook him off, dropped the cup, and shot into the house to take a shower in order to get rid of the nastiness that seemed to be covering my entire body. .
Ever since that day twelve years ago, I have carried that fear with me. I cannot walk on streets or sidewalk where they are, let alone touch them. Seventh grade biology was my next major face off with the repulsive creature. Even though the worms were all dead, I was unable to participate.