Death is a Leech That Meets You Twice

My greatest fear is death, duh. Maybe. I don’t think about death very often. I think about disappointing people. I have social anxiety. I guess I get scared alot in general. As a young kid I got covered in leeches while swimming in the creek that meanders muddily though the farm, and I screamed, Blacked out and found myself in my grandmothers bath, looking at the pink ceiling. There was salt, there was crying. Well, I was a kid. Kids can be dramatic.

Many years later I was back home for christmas. The hot sun on the dead grass, it was home alright. I needed a dip. There I was, marching to the creek, towel in hand. A hurdle appears: an electric fence in the way. Slapstick like, I got zapped by it and fell into the creek on the other side. My phone was in my pockets, dammit. Feeling into the muddy deep I find it. This was still when phones were tough, but not me. Seeing a leech on my arm made me suddenly freak out and wave my arm around, trying to throw it off- the leech, or my entire arm if not successful.

Perhaps that’s what death is— you develop the fear as a child but forget, until you meet it suddenly.

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