Dear Fear of Being Buried Alive:
I’d like to lodge a formal complaint against you. I am at the end of my rope (which isn’t as scary as thinking of you) with your hold over me. You will cease and desist immediately.
You are ruining my life. Last month alone, you put me into a panic as I watched Kill Bill and a rerun of NCIS. You give me shivers each time the hero gets stuffed and fluffed in a wooden box to be left to their doom. I can feel the walls closing in as the camera trains on the actor in the box and then on the faceless hand shoveling dirt on top. A chill rips up my spine as the person struggles and gasps and claws…even now, I’m panicking! Enough!
I will no longer tolerate this type of baseless fear. It ends now. You and I are officially not acknowledging each other and I expect you to comply. Good riddance Fear of Being Buried Alive. I hope I never feel your clammy hand on my shoulder again!
Very truly yours,