I hate insects. I genuinely, one hundred percent hate insects. And spiders, too. I hate spiders. I like animals and I love life, but I fucking hate insects. Tiny, shiny, crawling creatures, filled with yellow, disgusting juice that spreads all over the bathroom tiles or wallpapers the moment you smack and crack that crust open with whatever is your weapon of choice.
I love life, but I hate insects. They just piss me off. On a good day or when I'm far away from my rented premises I can ignore them and just be, but in my apartment it's a different story. I become a different person. My home turns into a dark jungle and my reflection in the mirror resembles Arnold in the eighties. The mission is to find and eliminate the predator.
It's actually not easy for me to admit, but yes, I am a killer. I'm generally quite harmless, but when it comes to certain multi-legged creatures I just don't want them to live on. And taking them out doesn't even make me feel good. I don't enjoy it. I'd rather have them avoid me in the first place. Ah, I don't know what I'm saying here. It's just, I hate insects.