The Way I See It

Thalassophobia is an intense fear of large bodies of water. More specifically, the depth of the water. Although, I think people are more frightened of what may lurk in its vastness than the water itself. The same could be said for nyctophobia I guess - an extreme fear of the dark. I don’t believe that it is the darkness itself, but the idea of what could be concealed within it that others fear. Now I’ve sat and pondered, I guess that could be said for all types of phobias. Agoraphobia isn’t the fear of the fresh air and earth’s natural elements. It’s the fear of what might happen to you at the hands of others whilst you’re in it. Acrophobia - the fear of heights, isn’t the thought of being high in the air as such, it is the fear of falling from that height. Hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia… the fear of big words. I’m afraid I tried to make sense of this one and I came up empty handed. The only solution I arrived at, was that the man or woman that gave this fear a title, belongs in the fiery pits of hell. I guess you could say that perspective plays a role in how we view ourselves and others fears. Does that ease the painful churn we get in our stomachs? What about if we look at the statistics of the outcomes we accidentally foreshadow.

Did you know that approximately 5 people per year die from a shark attack. Now, I do understand that there are other beings; known or unknown, that reside in the water and are capable of inflicting damage upon a clueless individual – I’m not naïve. I do know however that we have all seen jaws...  I also am mildly confident that it isn’t clownfish and sea turtles that you think are going to give your toes a little kiss. I have a friend actually - I know crazy right?

We spoke one day about her fear of the water, and do you know what she said? She said that she has watched toooooooooo many shark films. Heavy emphasis on the toooooooo.

 So, bearing in mind the statistics I pointed out earlier and the likelihood of a shark attack occurring, the influence of the media could well be a contributing factor to the severity of our fears and phobias. I would like to add a sidenote, that I had another friend that said she was frightened of meeting new people and them protruding a bad odour from their unwashed pits. I don’t think I can back her up by saying the media had a hand in that one – apart from the only plausible explanation that she was perhaps exposed to an overbearing number of deodorant commercials as a child? Or maybe yeah, she’s just weird.

I erm… have a tight knot in my bottom of my throat, almost like a constrictor is sneakily wrapping itself around it. Admission of fear itself can also be scary cant it? Vulnerability is frightening, especially in this world. Not everyone you meet is a nice person and that is just the harsh truth. Our fears can be viewed as weakness and then in turn, used against us. Not so far from the animal kingdom, are we?

I was bullied in school, for an incident that happened in the early years of my school life. Mrs Clark, my English teacher at the time - she taught the young ones, and she was great at it. She had a way of making you feel at ease you know? I think it was important for her, to be like that. Especially teaching the youngest kids at the school. It’s daunting enough, her kindness went a long way. I didn’t particularly like her on the day I’m about to talk about though. She asked us to go home and write an essay about our biggest fear and why we were afraid of it. She wanted us to include a little conclusion about how we can try and overcome that fear. The funny thing was… my biggest fear was glossophobia- the fear of public speaking. You can imagine how that went, when she asked us to present our essays to the entire fucking class right? Sorry, sorry it slipped out. Won’t happen again. When the clock decided to turn into a toddler on steroids, I peeled myself from my chair and stalked between the rows of desks that watched expectantly. I wish I could tell you that I finessed it and recited the essay with ease but alas, my gassy, traitorous digestive system had other plans. Yes, I farted, not only extremely loudly because God forbid anyone missed hearing it but also for an incredibly lengthy period. You can laugh, it wouldn’t stop! I can laugh about it now actually. Mainly because I don’t know how many laughs I have left.

I recall a day that I had booked a salon appointment, I had been dying to get my eyebrows done at this place and with a stroke of luck, whilst I was browsing the online appointments, someone must have cancelled theirs because a slot became available, I did not hesitate. I hadn’t been in there long before this stunning girl came to greet me. She beckoned me to sit and no longer had she made me lay down on her bed, she was chatting away. Yes, don’t worry, I have a point.

She started talking about one of her clients, a 92-year-old woman that had kept conversing with her about the topic of death. The lady had said she hated it and avoided the conversation entirely because it made her feel uncomfortable. I remember agreeing with her, death petrified me in every sense of the word. Until recently, when I discovered I have incurable breast cancer. Ironic really, considering I am 16 years old with barely any tits. No, my bad… breasts.

Thanatophobia – the fear of dying. I did some research, for educational purposes and to my surprise, discovered that it isn’t up there as a high-ranking phobia. Funny enough, arachnophobia is and so is public speaking. At least I feel validated for releasing my love puffs in front of my entire class now.

You know the saying “you never really know what you’ve got until it’s gone?” I cannot tell you how true that really is. I could tell you something generic and boring like, appreciate life whilst you still have it. You won’t. Because you have it, and you don’t think it will be taken away from you. I will tell you what it has done for me however and if my words change one mind then that will be an accomplishment at least. It gave me the best perspective; you know that thing we spoke about at the beginning? I don’t believe my friend should be fearful of what may nibble her toes in the ocean, I think she should switch her perspective and be curious as to what amazing things she could discover in it. A story will never be a story to tell if we don’t place ourselves in the midst of it. I don’t think the lady that gave me one of the best sets of eyebrows I’ve ever had in my life should feel faint when she speaks about death. I think she should embrace every breath she takes and every moment she makes. I’m a poet and I didn’t even know it. yeah, no, sorry… il continue.

I don’t think I should have been frightened to speak in font of my entire class, because if we look at perspective, it wasn’t the speaking I was afraid of, was it? It was what would happen when I started speaking and how everyone in that room would treat me after it. Unfortunately, my fear was valid because people treated me like shit no, I’m not apologising for that one. People treated me like a big pile of stinking cow shit after that. So maybe people should change their perspectives AND their behaviours, and the world might be a less fearful place to live. I also think my other friend shouldn’t be afraid of people’s armpits you know. She could be missing out on some cool people. Just carry some roll on with you and pretend you have too much of it or something.

My fear of death wasn’t the fear of death itself; it was the fear of the unknown and the lack of control I had. So why not control the narrative whilst I have that power? Thank you all, for listening to me ramble. I thought I lost some of you in parts there, especially you Mr Ackhurst. If you have any questions hurry up and ask them because I haven’t got long.

“Thank you Eva,” Mr Ackhurst cut off her winning attempt at dark humour.

“Jokes aside, that was enlightening, thank you for sharing. You may take your seat now.”

Eva took a bow, turned her back to the class, bent over and farted. Mr. Ackhurst let a smirk escape at the corner of his mouth, but his eyes told a different story. Glassy and sad. Eva turned back to the class, a shine to her own eyes and as she walked back to her seat, the image on the screen faded as Mrs Clark closed her laptop and looked upon the hundreds of wide eyes that sat crossed legged in the assembly hall. The space stayed silent for a few seconds, before an eruption of applause echoed off the walls. An applause that would be heard for years to come as Eva’s final show of bravery, strength and change in perspective was shown to a generation of kids that came after her, and that will be shown to many more generations to come.