I’m sitting here on the tall hard wooden bench, trying to make conversation with my piercer who had a weird look, but friendly smile, only to pretend like I didn’t get afraid of the thick needle at all. Even though I knew they didn’t, I could almost swear that my eyes exploded out of their sockets; I got an image in my head of a flies big creepy eyes. My face got that sensation where I thought there might be a cold needle slightly poking through the inside of my skin, like my face turned to freezing temperatures, but my face really just sweated. Each second appeared to get slower and slower, to the point where I dreamed that I ran away from this anticipated, anxious scene. The needle had to be as thick as a prong on a fork! I couldn’t even take my eyes off the needle, if I did I would’ve felt like I’d be taken by surprise and painfully off-guard.