Wouldn’t it be heinous if human botflies worked like herpes? If they got into, say, your lymphatic system and bred there like bees: one queen to set up shop, a coterie of drones to keep her fecund, and an endless stream of workers forcing themselves into the world through your skin? You’d have regular outbreaks, under your jaw, in the crease of your groin, in the soft pits behind your knees. Clusters of boils, then the buzzing, oh God…you’d never be free of them. You’d be their hive.

One time, at the pool, I let a horsefly bite me. I was stood on the diving board, about to jump in, and this horsefly swooped down. I felt it land on my back. Everyone was screaming at me to jump, but I thought if I did, the force of the water would tear the fly off my back and leave its mandibles in my skin. So I stood and let it bite.

Another time, I found a brilliant dead moth. It was pink and gold and woolly, and I gathered it up, thinking how splendid it would look mounted on my bookshelf. As I examined my find, a massive black ant crawled out of its face, and I realised it was headless and filled with ants. I threw it away and this dog jumped up and ate it, and it was the worst thing, just the worst, the most horrible sight….

I hope no-one sees me when I’m headless and filled with ants.

Say you’ll remember me whole and uninfested.

I don’t want to die.