during a fire drill in first grade, a jumping spider bit me. i wasnāt doing a thing to him and i think what upsets me most is that he couldnāt assess my vibes to know i wasnāt a threat. i had a really mean teacher and i tried to tell her, but she angrily shushed me, as we werenāt allowed to speak during fire drills. i accepted my fate and figured she would be sorry later.
i remember wistfully staring out the window as my mom drove me home, coming to terms with the end of my life. i didnāt tell her, for fear of worrying her. i peacefully ate my final dinner when i got home (velveeta mac and cheese, which i hated then and i still do now. but again, i didnāt want to complain as my mom would have a bigger issue at hand when she went to go wake me up in the morning.)
i went to bed without a fuss. said goodbye to my then two year old sister, took a look around my room and gave a sigh. this was it. and i went to bed knowing i had lived a long, good six years of life.
well, dear reader, i am here writing this 20
years later. so rest assured, i did survive. but i think my rational (?) thought in that moment helped me work through a lot of existential stuff at an early age. so i guess thatās cool.