Monsters in my Closet

Joe stayed at my house last night, despite the fact that we still have mice, and it nearly killed him. And me. We were up until almost four in the morning. For some reason, his fear of mice triggers every fear he's ever had and it comes crashing down on him. I understand being scared of things, or creeped out, but he puts such weight, such anxiety, into one little creature. I think we must all have a creature, it just isn't so obvious or so unavoidable. No one forces you to sleep with yours (possibly) under the bed. My own fears are pushed into my nightmares, dreams so vivid they color the way I look at the world for days. For years I dreamt I was being sent back to high school whenever I was anxious about anything. Sometimes I wasn't even aware I was anxious until the dreams showed up and I had to look for what was wrong. I'm very good at pushing things down and away, or at least I used to be. I try not to do it so much now, but old habits are hard to break. Joe has to pry things out of me half the time. The only physical fear I have that I can think of is of crowds. They don't always bother me, but that's probably because I often just simply avoid being anywhere they are. The sidewalks of New York are enough to make me twitch. Concerts I can only do on a good day, and only if I'm really determined. And just what would happen if I stayed?