For as long as I can remember, I have dealt with a crippling fear of birds, specifically pigeons. It all started at a local park where I’m from, known as “Pigeon Park,” which is full of hordes of pigeons that people can feed. To me, however, it’s my own personal hell.
When I visited the park at a very young age, I was ambushed, absolutely pummeled by a swarm of pigeons who wanted to perch on me. I had never experienced true fear until that moment, when I watched as their beady and soulless eyes set on me and they all collectively flew in my direction.
From that moment onwards, a primal instinct took over me, one that has stuck with me to this day: run. So, I did. I ran as far away from that godforsaken park as I could without ever looking back.
Ever since, pigeons and I have maintained a mutual hatred. If I see them, even from afar, I know that is a place I do not want to be. If they see me, they torment me, trying to get close in order to taunt me. The pests have infested the skies and want to do the same on the ground.
I once tried to make peace with pigeons to get over my fear. I gave the tiny demons an inch of my trust, and they flew towards me to perch and peck to their heart’s content. I now live my life in fear and distaste for these birds, whose only role on this earth is to make my life and others’ miserable.
Beware of pigeons.
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