Behind my brave, courageous and intrepid exterior (Hah.), I am undoubtedly a total and utter wuss.
And it is, by the standards of health and well-being, a serious problem as it affects my day-to-day life.
For example, if my school bag feels like it’s being weighed down by one or two more bricks than usual, I will purposefully ‘forget’ a folder, and maybe a textbook or three, to save my shoulders from the fiend that is gravity. This has left me with a polished reputation of forgetfulness but of course, the truth is only worse!
My phobia of toads also brandishes me with a title of chickenry; those little slimy legged balls of yuck can turn me (a 5 ft 9 example of evolution’s ‘peak’) into a screaming, heart-racing picture of fright.
I was so terrified of my exam results last year that as soon as I sat down to collect them I turned the pile of papers in front of me a little damp with my spiralling, uncontrollable tears! Needless to say, the teacher giving me the results also looked a little scared.
So lets just say I think I’ll be steering clear of any ‘no fear’ merchandise; unless I give in to the wonderful art of irony.
(Did anyone else notice the number of rhymes in this post? Perhaps the poetry life chose me after all!)
Talk to me about anything
Except what could have been.
For my mind is crawling with
False memories of you and me.
You took me to the prom, and
Told me I looked prettier than
All the fields that had ever
Soaked beneath and through our naked skin.
Our hands, tied together, would pirouette
With every kiss I would never forget.
I pressed every petal from every flower
You gave me so they would not rot.
Talk to me about anything.
Except what was not.