I hate zombies.

A dear friend once spoke hyperbolically about having a "hipster gene" that made her picky about what was to be considered of quality and then cringing if this same thing was hailed by the masses. Nothing could have summed up my hatred of zombies better. They have taken the place of vampires for the time being but by the time I wake up tomorrow it could the bloody spiders that everybody is obsessed about. For this reason I will not be laying out a plan of zombie survival because, newsflash, they are not real. I have better things to do with  my time. 

Independent. You can call me anything you like but insinuating that I am not an independent person is to throw down the gauntlet. (I thank you Mr. Behler) The scariest thing for an independent person to ponder is helplessness. Spiders, where is my shoe? Snakes, get me the damn shovel. Robbers, honey please, i gon call da popo. But helplessness will stop me in my tracks. It has since I was a young child. Traveling home after visiting grandparents on Sunday evenings as the sun was breaking over the trees I would think about what would happen if I jumped from the moving vehicle and landed in the unknown town. The fear grabbed me. Held me tight. Would someone help me? Could I call my grandparents to come get me? It wasn't too far to walk back. I used to have reoccurring dreams where I, as a four year old,  would be left alone in a moving vehicle and, in order to save myself and my accompanying siblings, had to maneuver through busy traffic despite knowing nothing about driving a car. Independence has served me well so far, but it comes with a price. My fear cannot be squashed with a shoes, the conquering must come from within. Or, I must marry my fear and allow it to take me to new heights.

Each week I appear to misinterpret the prompt. This week was about zombies and halloweeny fears. and yet I read "please blabber on about childhood fears and all the things that one might relay during a therapy session." i should probably stop writing these things after my nightcap. 

*i dont drink. promise. father forgive me for i have sinned.