Irrational Fears

I’m afraid of left-handed people. I’m afraid of empty Pepsi cans. Chemistry teachers with blonde mustaches. I’m afraid of fingernail clippers. I’m afraid of what’s in the cupboard. I’m afraid of mustard. I’m afraid of cranberries. Of cranberry juice. I’m afraid of orange juice pulp. I’m afraid of grass. Wet grass. Bluegrass. I’m afraid of trees. Of leaves. Of the letter V. I’m afraid of questions. I’m afraid of answers. I’m afraid of my own heart. I’m afraid of breathing in through my nose. And the whistling sound. I’m afraid of post-it notes, especially small ones. I’m afraid of erasers. I’m afraid of daytime. I’m afraid of clocks. I'm afraid of knuckle hairs. I’m afraid of most of my own fingers. I’m afraid that somewhere right now somebody is jumping on a trampoline. I’m afraid of Thanksgiving. I’m afraid of going grocery shopping in the middle of the day. I’m afraid of awkward conversations. I’m afraid of carpet. I’m afraid of shag carpet from the 70’s. I’m afraid of lamps. I love lamp. I’m afraid of my sheets. I’m afraid of my toothbrush. I’m afraid of nice people. I’m afraid of a B flat being played on a guitar. I’m afraid of leftovers. I’m afraid of backward hats. I’m afraid of the wind. I’m afraid of boiling water. I'm afraid of falsetto voices.