Insects bother me too . . . certain things haven't helped.
When I was about eight or so years old, I was at my gran's house for dinner, and she was cooking some eggs in the grill. It was summer, and there was a large, intimidating fly-type thing careering about in the kitchen. I have no idea what it was - it looked like a daddy-long-legs, and was about the same size, but it was a lot chunkier and more muscular-looking. It was pale brown, if I remember rightly. After a while it flew into the grill, and began circling above the eggs. Later on when I was sitting at the table, my gran came in from the kitchen and presented me with a sandwich, containing some of the grilled eggs. I opened the sandwich (I always do that with sandwiches, because I like to smell the contents before I eat them) . . . and, horrifyingly, the back half of the insect was sticking out from the surface of the egg. It has grilled itself while flying, and then collapsed head-first into the egg, and gran hadn't noticed. I felt really sick, and my sister (who was about five at the time) saw it too and began to cry. My mother cut out the offending part of the egg, and I was instructed to eat it . . . but insects have for some reason bothered me a lot ever since then. There's something very disquieting, I think, about the fact that the insect is so greedy and stupid as to grill itself in pursuit of food. It's very hard to explain, but remembering the incident makes me feel quite panicky and queasy.
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"I'd go further - I'd say 'Life is wasted on . . . people.'"
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