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!)

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