Alyssa Lynn: I HATE...

You know something is wrong when your heart starts pounding for no apparent reason, or at least you think. "Why is it doing this?" is one of the first questions that runs through my mind. This question is quickly answered with a quick glance towards the floor where my feet are happily resting. A rather large black object is hustling across the floor right near my feet. The only acceptable and understandable reaction is to jump towards clearer grounds-literally:

Just five minutes ago, while trying to be studious (didn't happen), I noticed this black object out of the corner of my eye. Yes, it was a roach...bah huhuh. I quickly jumped from my seat at the table and climbed onto the farthest chair with a whinny shriek. I hate few things as much as I do roaches. Call me superficial, but I think their ugliness unnerves me.

***I really can't help my reactions to the situation. At one point in my life, I wondered if I often overreacted to roaches because there were people around. However, after just one roach experience by myself, I realized this was not the case.***

My experience just now was no different. I was sitting at the table all alone waiting for my parents to come home when I saw it. It was crawling between me and any form of defense (besides distance) that I could have. Strangely I wasn't able to control the stream of words that escaped my mouth. Words like "no (several times)" and "Come on (pleading with the roach does nothing, let me tell you)" and "mom (who wasn't home yet, may I remind you)"

I, in a mortified state, watched (while doing a frightened dance- a cross between "I have to go to the bathroom" and marching) as it crawled toward my bedroom. "How am I going to sleep tonight knowing that it is maybe journeying to see its family?" Finally, in a flurry of adrenaline, I was able to grab the broom out of the closet. This action was brave in and of itself. The roach was guarding the closet. With a "uh no no no" I feebly lowered the broom onto the devil of the insect world. When my attempt, weak from fear and mortification, didn't do anything, I tried a second time. This time, I held control of myself briefly enough to knock the thing on its back and into the bathroom across the hall from my bedroom. "That would do until mom got home, ehh, I hope."

I anxiously skip-jumped back to the table with my computer to start this account, but quickly had to stop. My hands were shaking and my mind was racing so fast that I couldn't type. Finally, I began to write what you have, to this point, read. My mom came home and found the roach angrily crawling toward my room. Luckily she made it in time to save me and my sleep from future harm.

All this might seem to you as a bit of an overreaction, but if you knew the experiences that I have had with roaches, you would more than understand.