confession

i have what i recognise is an entirely irrational fear of falling down stairs. not that i shouldn't be afraid, klutz that i am, but the magnitude of the fear is unreasonable.
my heart flutters madly each time i go down them (coda: this applies only to actual flights of stairs, not the 3 steps down from my gallery to the road) and the fear is specific enough that the flutter's because of the recurrent mental image of myself going down the particular flight of stairs in question in a long dress or skirt and heels, wineglass in hand, tripping on my hem and tumbling to the bottom to be slowly turned over to reveal a long shard of the glass embedded in my jugular and too much blood already lost.
it makes no difference if i'm not actually carrying a glass when this rushes into my mind, but if i happen to be, my terror is nearly paralysing, which, of course, adds to the sensation that i may fall headlong at any second.
i can't stop myself from thinking it every time i walk down the stairs. every descent is a flirtation with death. i'm convinced that my desire to not lose my drink, coupled with the number of multiple-storey buildings i drink in will kill me.
since we live in a house with 2 flights of stairs and i grew up in a house with 1, this fear is frequent, and yet i can't outgrow or get over it.

walk good.