I'm afraid of fire. I was scared when I was younger that I couldn't even stand being in the kitchen each and every time my parents would cook. The moment they started doing it I'd just run out of there.  I'm afraid of fire. No, not afraid. Trauma. I can't exactly remember how old I was. Maybe I was six. Maybe I was younger than that. I still didn't know how to swim. I still used the little kid's pool &  a little float in a shape of a duck. But what I remember the most is seeing my dad jumping out of the pool all of suddenly. What I remember the most was seeing one of the apartments in fire. What I remember the most was seeing my dad jumping out of the pool and run to the flames because there was a baby inside. It was Summer vacation. And that is all I can remember about that Summer. As I grew older I got used to the fire in the kitchen and I did no longer run. But still afraid of the fire I was. Still afraid of the fire I am. Because I can't help but let those memories fulfill my mind. Because I can't help my imagination from creative scenarios that might or might not come true. And sometimes I scare myself with my own thoughts. Sometimes it seems irrationally. This fear I have. Sometimes it seems irrational. And my imagination just gets too wild. But nothing scares you more than a childhood memory.