The frailty of my life


So, on Sunday there I was sitting and surfing the web and doing absolutely nothing productive when all of a sudden I burped and some food came back up and got stuck in my wind pipe. I started coughing and couldn't breathe in. I called my brother for help who then called my mum. My mum helped me to cough it up which obviously brought up my beloved friend "Mr Phlegm".

All this made me more anxious and in between gasping for air, I said to my family members that I'm going to die, I can't breathe. I really felt I wasn't going to breathe again.......but what stuck in mind since then is my memory of not being able to breathe and me looking at my mum and wanting to say I'm sorry, sorry for the scum I am and everything else. Anyway, obviously I didn't die and lived to tell this tale. But that memory still exists, but perhaps what was most frightning was the fear of death. Desiring not to live and facing death are two complete different things. Is it death that scares me or facing judgement for my sins.......................

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