I hate them. Filthy things. Why must they live here, where no one wants them? Yes, they are helpful in certain ways, but couldn't we learn to adapt to their absence? I would crawl over broken glass, blazing with gasoline-inspired fire, to get rid of these things, these mistakes.

Don't call me crazy, I've been called that before. People say, "Relax, you're just paranoid." But I'm not paranoid and I can't relax with these sneaky little, disease ridden abominations darting in and out of the grass, over my skin, through cracks and holes, out of nests and hives and cocoons.

A dark blur, right over there. That tells me they're here. They can hear me, can't they? They sense my hostility, and now they mock me, lying in wait for when they can strike in one mass, as if they're individual attacks were not awful enough. Simply knowing they exist gives me the feeling of being in a foxhole, with my head down, hands shaking, trying to keep a grip on my weapon. That is me, behind the couch, with a flyswatter, or a spray bottle of Clorox.

Some of them are so disgusting, so terrible, that I can't even say their name. You know them, though. You can say them just fine, can't you? But I gag over the word. My tongue feels heavy, as if the vowels and consonants held a poison, or were sucking the blood from my mouth, like the name suggests. Disgusting. Filthy.

Yesterday, I defended myself against an army of fly larvae. Maggots. Disgusting. Filthy. You say they are harmless? Bah. I scoff. They invade your home at the mindless will of their equally repulsive parents. Disgusting. Filthy.

Do not think that my OCD or the mild paranoia play any role in this fear. No one likes bugs. No one is pleased with their existence, and I will tolerate it no longer. Think of a life without flies, or ants. Think of how wonderful it would be to be able to roll in the grass, and receive no territorial bites, stings, or creepy crawlies on your back as silent reminders that you are not on your own turf. I will not be bested by these monsters. These miniscule beats that hover, or creep. They will terrify me no longer. I will kill them all.

Disgusting. Filthy.