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3 Stupid Fears

I AM AFRAID OF EVERYTHING!

Seriously, I’ve written lots and lots of words about fear. I started writing about fear and social anxiety early in my blogging career and just kept going from there. You could say that it might be a common theme of professional adultism. I don’t think I can go more than a few weeks without having some sort of mental breakdown that leads to gibbering madness here on the blog. It’s a thing I like to do.

Still, I really am pretty much afraid of the dumbest things. No, I don’t mean like “squeamish around spiders,” I mean like, “convinced that Russians are plotting to steal my fluorides.”

I’m aware of the implications…

1) Deadly Wolf-men 

Let’s face it. We all know that werewolves aren’t real. You’re not going to be ripped apart by some sort of wild man-beast enspelled by the coming of the full moon. I’m not afraid of that kind of deadly wolf-man. I’m not even sure if I would say I’m actually afraid of werewolves at all. My personal fear is much, much more diabolical.

I’m afraid of people that think they’re werewolves.

Now, some of you might think I’m talking about Furries or Otherkin. You’re probably ready to cast me off as one of those jerks that is afraid of what I don’t understand.

I’m not talking about that. I don’t care what you do in your spare time or if you feel like you have the soul of a wolf. I hope that makes you happy.

I’m talking about those really creepy guys that always look at me like I look at a meat-lover’s pizza and a side of hot wings. These are the people that you are 100% sure have a freezer full of former neighbors.

Then they start growling and barking at you.

I’m sure you’ve all experienced this before. I can’t be the only one.

 

 

2) Crowds

TRUE FACT: 1 in 4 People are actually mythological monsters. That means if you are in a group of more than 4 people, you’re screwed. Someone there is trying to find a way to either turn you to stone or eat your face. This is just the way the world works. Everyone that isn’t you is probably a gibbering monster ready to suck the marrow from your bones.

This means that any time you are caught in the middle of a crowd, you are in immediate and extreme danger…

At least that is what my brain tells me.

What is truly terrible about this is that my fear brain doesn’t care who makes up the crowd. Sixteen members of my family in one place? At least four of them have probably been replaced with mutant, ninja podmen. Five of my best friends of all time? One of them is now a vampire. Thirty children young enough to still be in a maternity ward? One of them might secretly be Snooki.

For some reason, my brain just doesn’t deal well with groups of people larger than three. Ironically, the only place this doesn’t seem to get me is when I’m at LARP events, where 1 in 4 people probably really are trying to kill me…. with foam weapons. I guess it’s the illusion of being armed that comforts me. I should carry a spear.

3) Everything Around Me is Actually Constantly on Fire

I am not one of those people that went through a fire and became a pyromaniac. I guess I still enjoy sitting outside with a fire of the camp and/or bon variety, but I’m not obsessed or fascinated with it. At least, I’m not obsessed or fascinated with it’s existence and creation. 

I’m terribly afraid that I’m going to die in a fire.

Some strange part of me thinks that the fire is angry that it didn’t get me in 2008 and that it’s coming for me one day. I guess I’ve seen to many Final Destination movies. I just can’t shake the feeling that I’m being haunted by fire.

I’m constantly on the vigil for stray flames. I’m constantly checking to see if I’m on fire. I just randomly start searching for flames all the time.

There is never anything there. Fire doesn’t generally just spring up out of thin air and start burninating everything around you.

Still, some part of me knows that there are these invisible flames just waiting in the background, ready to grab me.

 

 

BONUS: 1 Thing I should Be Afraid of but I’m Not

That’s Right. I live in Kansas City, and I am not afraid of shirtless, gun-toting, knife-wielding tweakers. I might have a serious problem.

 

 

Published by M.A. Brotherton

M.A. Brotherton is a writer, blogger, artist, and fat-kid from the suburbs of Kansas City, Missouri. He’s tasted a little bit of everything the Midwest has to offer, ranging from meth-tweaking rednecks in massive underground cave complexes to those legendary amber waves of grain. When he’s not writing, he spends most of his time screwing around on the internet.