I went to the next town over to get a 1 pound BLT sandwich. That is, it had one pound of bacon and normal amount of lettuce and tomato. It was a pretty good sandwich, but it was excessively tough and chewy. I started choking on a piece when I got tired of chewing on it and just tried force swallowing it, just for it to get stuck in my throat. I spent probably 15-20 seconds hurking on the damn thing, and when it didn't come out immediately I started thinking "Shit is this the stupid way I'm going to die?", and I got really scared for a second, especially since I had just finished thinking on the drive over to the restaurant just how careful and conscientious I am, cause apparently those are admirable traits I should silently admire myself over like any stupid and petty narcissist, and here I was in a situation caused by my lack of caution.
I mean, yeah, I forced it out, but it would have sucked to go out in such a stupid and hypocritical way. I don't even know why I'm posting about it here, I wasn't even that inconvenienced by it other than the embarrassment of spitting out a big hunk of food, I kept right on eating afterwards like nothing happened.
I just hate being reminded about death, and how when I die I'm probably going to die in a stupid and unexpected way. I need to get to sleep and I just need to post to get it off my mind so I CAN sleep; otherwise I'll just be clutched in an introspective fear of death. I feel that I have a fear of death that is pathological in nature, caused by my feeling that my life has been largely unimportant and unsuccessful, and the fear of death is amplified if you've had an unfulfilling life; the implication being that I wouldn't be nearly as afraid if I were more fulfilled in life. I feel that that's a total bullshit estimation though.
This is such a petty story, I'm sorry for bringing it up, just every small thing gets under my skin like this.