Phobia.

It’s that sudden movement that creeps you out.
The perfects mud-color fits in to the ground, which gives you no reason to suspect anything. Yet – you still are never quite sure, sill you are always guarding your path in front of you. But it doesn’t matter. It rips your heart open every time the small frog makes a sudden movement – in action to make a jump: a small, harmless little jump that will have no influence what so ever to the world. But your brain has registered that little jump, that frog as a life-threatening danger. And your heart has no reason to disbelieve its warning.
Afterwards, the incident can overlook as a bit weird and paranoid. Why would you be scared to that small imbecile who cannot harm you? Who would never, ever be able to hurt you whatsoever? But no matter how many times you’ve thought about it, no matter how many people have told you of its harmlessness, you still can’t overcome that adrenalin-rush, which tells your heart that you are going to die.

When the adrenalin flows in my veins, the matter of time is difficult to explain. It’s like the time is standing still, and I'm a prisoner, trying to get out before the time runs out. Sometimes I find myself starring at the frog or toad in horror, with my shaking body running inside of me, but my limbs won’t move. Seconds have only passed, but the picture of the frog is carved inside of my retina. The picture of that sudden movement that creeps me out.