Dude a big ass centipede just flew out from under the couch I am sitting on at like a million centifoots per second, and I was like damn I’m glad the floor is made of lava and my feet are up, it coulda brushed my feet, but I could totally tell this centipede was running for its tiny life, like gonna get eated gonna get eated gotta make it to the radiator or get eated. (Squid is a god to centipedes. A vengeful, harsh, snacky god.) Squid’s in bed. When it got to the radiator the little dude looked back over its shoulder (or, um, its hundred shoulders) and was like I see no god, NO GOD, NO GOD and it turned around and zoomed to the middle of the carpet and started doin’ donuts and waving its eight hundred arms in the air like FUCKIN FREE YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW, NO GOD and then it stopped and like, tried to catch its breath and kinda ambled back into the radiator.

Remember that night I saw like six centipedes and then I took a bath to keep safe from centipedes and then one of them cannonballed into my bath and I ran out crying and hid under the covers and Lucas totally thought I was making the whole thing up or hallucinating until he found that emboldened centipede’s bloated carcass at the bottom of the tub the next morning and I think he tried to convince me that it just wanted to love and be near me but looking back I don’t know how I missed the significance of that centipede’s obvious watery suicide


There were five or six centipedes runnin around the bathroom floor and I got in a bath to be safe from em and then one crawled up the tub and started swimmin in my bath with me and I started crying I think I might have died and am in hell but if not I am going to poison myself because this life is not liveable

Heedlessly, I reached in an took out a book, not caring what the title read. I flipped through the pages and sent legions of flat bugs with centipede legs madly scampering everywhere! I dropped that book, then stared down at the loose pages that had scattered. I hated bugs, spiders most of all, worms next. And what swarmed from those pages seemed a combination of both.
— 

Okay so this passage was from Flowers in the Attic and like it was a slap in the face for me. I like bugs, I’m down with spiders, I think worms are really awesome, so what the fuck is my deal with centipedes? I mean other than that they are godless. I gotta get my shit together with this anti-centipede bias.

Anyway, sometimes when I’m doing something awful in the bathroom a centipede strolls by and I’m like “fuck!” and recently I realized that this might mean that centipedes are my conscience.

I don’t think this space is my space any more than it is the centipede’s space and I don’t like creating an occupation conflict with them. I don’t like framing this as a boundary issue, even though my honest terror is to be snuck up on and especially to be snuck up on by one hundred legs, because I am setting the terms of the boundaries and that is unfair to the centipede. I don’t like hating god’s tiny creatures when I love all the other ones. I like spiders okay and I love slugs and worms many types of beetles and so on. I don’t like that centipedes make me question my subjectivity. I just really really really don’t like wiggly forcep butts.

katydidnot said:

i was always super confused about your centipede blogging but it was recently explained to me that centipedes are the roaches of michigan

They are and they aren’t! I was just talking to Isabel about this. In other states (the south, southwest, and I guess in New York) having roaches is a normal urban home experience, but here I think it’s a little more weighted in terms of being seen as a dirty/shameful/poor person thing. Here centipedes are not attached to any stigma really, they’re just a thing you gotta deal with in city homes of a certain age and humidity, and they don’t travel in scary packs like roaches do, so they’re never really an infestation concern. However, they’re also not really necessarily all that ubiquitous, as I have mentioned, I had never even seen one IRL before I lived in this apartment. That’s probably why they are so scary to me, because they are still like a horror story kinda bug.

However, they are much like roaches in that they live in your walls (which, I know I know, everything lives in the walls and that’s cool, but on principle that’s the scariest fucking thing ever), and they jump out at you like they don’t even give a fuck. Also are nocturnal, which is horrific.

Anyway I grew up in the southwest too so I concede that centipedes aren’t half as traumatic as a southwestern roach, although the first time I went to Texas when I was like 10 we stayed at this motel and I s2g there was a roach the size of my forearm and tbh I thought it was kind of a badass.

How can I exorcise myself of this fear? I’m not afraid of other bugs (except for wasps and spiders when they jump out at me). Centipedes eat the bad stuff, like termites and silverfish and maybe even bed bugs. I should be appreciating their labor instead of crying and gulping valium about it.

Housecentipede.net has some tips for getting rid of centipedes, but no tips for getting rid of irrational fears of centipedes :(.

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