How I conquered my fear but not really

In general I am a calm girl, I don't freak out often.

"No no no no no I will not, I WILL NOT. I will sit out here in my towel until someone destroys that million-legged freak!" I really hate centipedes, and am somewhat sleep-deprived. I had played video games until 2 in the morning, then went to bed. As I slowly sank into my bed, waiting for sleep to come, I realized that I had not stopped sinking into my bed. I listened to the hiss of air for awhile before deciding that the patch I had put on my bed had not held.

This was all very natural of course. Well, for me anyway.

Back to the morning, just before the discovery of The Centipede. It was about 6:30am, a nice morning really, when I hopped in and out of the shower, washing as I went. I wrapped a towel around myself, the towel that would later become the towel that I sat in whilst waiting for someone to kill The Centipede.

Deciding to do something about the leaking patch on my bed, I grab a nice orange tube with the words 'Contact Cement'. I'm not particularly familiar with this orange tube, but it's the only glue-like thing I can find. As I am finishing the re-patching of the hole, I look up.

At first the sight doesn't register. Then my heart begins to race, my head gets light and my mind goes as blank. I watch as The Centipede scampers under my pillow. I sit, paralyzed with fear, when a plan slowly unfolds in my mind. I grab the drawer from a jewelry box that sits, in my cluttered room, on the floor. I lean over, lift the pillow, fully ready to squash the life out of the "million-legged freak", but alas, the dear bug is not to be seen.

My entire body shudders and I dash out of the room and straight to my mom's. I stand at the door, with occasional shudders going through me.

"You know we have centipedes?"

"Huh?"

"Centipedes."

"Clean your room then." Ahh, mom is going to be of no help.

I glance down the hallway at my snoring brother. He isn't going to be of any help either. So I sit, and sit, and sit some more before realizing I have to get dressed.

Then my alarm goes off. I make my way to the bedroom door, full of apprehension. I open it with care, lest I alert The Centipede to my arrival. I peer into the room, looking close for The Centipede. After a couple of seconds, when I do not find it, I come to the conclusion that it is lying in wait, ready to attack at a moments notice. I hit the off button on my alarm and withdraw my arm with inhuman speed. Centipedes can strike fast you know, or so my poor, fear induced brain thinks.

Another plan begins to develop in my mind. It is simple really. Get into a full-bodied Bio-Hazard suit, grab the clothes I want to wear for the day, shake them until The Centipede falls out, squish him (or her, I'm equal opportunity) and go about my day. Most likely in the bio-hazard suit. To prevent the revenge that would surly be taken out by the Centipede Community. And I've always wanted to wear a Bio-Hazard suit.

Alright, so I am aware of the fact that there isn't a single Bio-Hazard suit within kilometers of me. So I carried out the plan with the towel in place of the bio-hazard suit.

Again, I open my door with extreme caution, it is doubly important this time that I do not alert The Centipede. I'm going in.

I pick up my clothes for the day, one by one, and feel lucky, because they're in a pile by the door. I hold them at arms length, walking slowly, lest the garments touch me, transferring The Centipede to my body.

After shaking out my clothes, I pull them all on, except for the jeans. The legs of the jeans were long enough that The Centipede can cling to the inside and not be shaken out. Besides, when I shake them the legs flail wildly, and could fling The Centipede at me. So I decided to lay them flat and stomp about on them. I'd take centipede guts over a live centipede any day.

On to the next problem, my glasses are on my nightstand (if you could call a cardboard box a nightstand) which is right next to the pillow, under which The Dreaded Centipede had disappeared.

If my room was clean, I could just run straight across, but as my room looks like its usual disaster area, I can't.

So I figured the simplest way would have to be to just walk across my room, grab my glasses and show no fear, maybe scaring away The Dreaded Centipede. I readied a cloth to clean my glasses because I am convinced that there will be centipede tracks on the lenses.

I creep across the room, on high alert, and grab my glasses making sure to shake them, just in case The Dreaded Centipede could turn invisible. You never know what these guys could be capable of. Just think of the technology they could discover!

I clean my rescued glasses, despite the fact that there is no evidence of centipede travel on them and feel quite proud of myself for conquering my fear. I am still afraid to enter my room, and every time I do, I shudder as I leave it. And can still feel tiny little feet roam about my body, even though nothing is there, but I've definitely conquered my fear.