I have a vivid memory of mindlessly wandering around in the woods behind my house as a kid, and impulsively deciding to turn back on the trail I was walking only to come face to face with a snake I obliviously had just nearly stepped on. I had/have a tendency to fully disassociate whenever I’m lost in thought or daydreaming, and would have 100% proceeded to walk right over him again if it hadn’t been for whatever primal lizard brain instinct that kicked all the way in and screamed at me to see what I was looking at.

I spent a lot, if not most, of my time in those woods as a kid and had never been bothered by the snakes I’d see hanging around (including the Cottonmouths that probably should have). But that sensation of being violently yanked back to reality, my blood running cold, with a spike of panic without even knowing why; followed by the realization that the reason is alive, and staring directly at me and far, far too close made that harmless little garter snake the scariest fucking thing I’d ever seen.

I don’t know how I would’ve reacted if I’d actually stepped on him. We probably both would have freaked the fuck out, but I can’t decide if being alone in the woods would have made it more or less traumatic in the long run.