I have a very small worm in my ear. I feel the pops and crackles as it shifts sometimes and the pressure changes, or the very tiny bones creak under its very tiny weight. I feel little tickling sensations, even when there is no wind. I’ve yet to see it - whenever I try, in the mirror, it pulls back. Quick movements cannot take it by surprise, and it cannot be tricked by slowly sneaking up on it, though I get the feeling it always waits until the last moment. Sometimes if I put my finger in my ear I can feel its light touch on the tip; I’m not sure if this is because it has no further place to withdraw, or if it is a purposeful choice, exploratory, or maybe tormenting.

Where did it come from? Perhaps it crawled in one night whilst I slept, and has decided there is no better place to be. Perhaps it is, in fact, a small strand of my brain that has pulled away for the rest, dissatisfied with its role and determined to go it alone, a free thinker. Do they still communicate, or does it have its own twisting little thoughts, disconnected from the spiralling confusion it came from? Perhaps it’s better off that way.

Should I do something about it? Yes of course, you may think - soil, not the cochlear, is the natural and right place for worms. Maybe it’s a simple misunderstanding, and it’d be happier burrowing through the earth, and I more sound of mind without it. But then again, what if it’s like the spider that seems a menace in need of removal, only to find your house full of flies once the guardian has been deposed? I should not like to find out what kinds of flies my worm eats, and an infestation may prove to be unpleasant. It doesn’t seem to be doing me any harm, though who can tell if how one feels is how one ‘should’ feel, when we only experience the one and not the other.

But what if it is only biding its time, if it’s learning, or growing, or both? If festers, feasting on stray thoughts, or on ideas, or on flesh, so that it can reach the next stage of its cycle and emerge fully formed? Then at least I could get a good look at it, perhaps; I think it would not be afraid at that point. Yes, I should try and get rid of it, though it may be difficult. I feel almost that it can read my mind, or work to change it somehow, and that the closer I get to its removal the more desperately it shall fight to stay. There are pinpricks behind my eyes even as I write this. My sinuses seem fuller, my forehead hot. I fear that a sideways approach, to come up on it slowly and catch it unaware, will not work at this point. No, swift action is needed. I shall find an appropriate instrument.