I mean, there are plenty of reasons to find bugs mildly disgusting, maybe even irritating. I mean, they carry nasty diseases, they look totally gross, they fly/crawl around and make nuisances of themselves - so not liking them is completely justified.
That said, there is no good reason why I should be heart-stoppingly, pants-poopingly afraid of them.
Did I say afraid? I meant terrified. Or maybe petrified. Panic-stricken. Because somewhere in my not-rational mind, I am totally convinced that any bug I see is going to fly in my face and crawl in my eyes and eat my brain and suck out my soul and walk around in my body like that guy from Heroes.
...any exaggeration is justified by the FOUR-INCH COCKROACH I just saw in the dorm bathroom. Crawling on the wall. TOWARDS ME. WHILE I WAS ON THE TOILET.
Which is not a situation ANYONE wants to be in, much less a borderline-psychotic entophobe.
It's been thirty full minutes and I'm still shaking. And I'm convinced every little itch is a bug crawling on me, or every speck of dirt on the floor that I see out the corner of my eye is another friggin cockroach. I'm going to have nightmares for WEEKS.
And now the worst part is I ran away without killing the damn thing, so I have no idea where it could be now. Maybe it followed me. Maybe it's hiding in my bed. Maybe it's waiting for me to fall asleep so it can lay eggs in my toenails and spawn a race of toe-fungus-cockroach-mutant-Nazis.
Hey, it could happen.
I'M NEVER PEEING IN A DORM BATHROOM AGAIN.
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