You encase me with your treacherous thread as if I were one of your victims to be eaten as a snack. At first, your attack is oh so subtle, as you lurk in the corner of your beautiful lace only to be angered by my inability to observe your presence. As I begin to feel the dampness across my face, the match of panic is lit and fire ignites in my soul. I am horrified by the well-known feeling. The same feeling that one might experience if they were to be captured in a net, but, in this instance, the net is invisible. The minute my body hits your masterpiece, your attack becomes personal to you, and your eight legs move as that of a cheetah.

But for me, there is no escape. I struggle to fight off the thought that you no longer are located on the tree branch I ripped your home from. I move about in a chaotic manner resembling that of a person doing a rain dance. You dance along with me as you move avoiding my swipes of hate. It is only when your tiny legs touch bare skin that your presence becomes known to all parts of my brain. Instead of greeting you with a warm smile and open arms, I let out a scream so monstrous that you begin to panic as well. The dance turns into a seizing of the body, and my limbs start to have a mind of their own, twisting and turning.

It is over as quickly as it began. Finally, one of my limbs catches you in the act of sneaking to a different part of my head. With one swoop, you are lifted into the air and sent swirling to the ground. I am forced to collect my emotions and retreat to a safe place.

From time to time, I will find myself wondering what it is like to be you. I can’t imagine watching the world around me from a web, but I think I will just leave that perspective to you.