Overthinking and making a sandwich

“Bread... check...

Cheese... check...

Bacon... WTF??? What even is “chicken bacon”??? *Anxiety begins*

Phew!!! They have pork bacon. Check that shit off your list.

What else am I missing??? Ah! Cheese. There you go. Check.

And finally... Lettuce.”

And that’s just a normal scenario in the daily life of a nobody who thinks the whole world is out to get him. “Oh look! There’s a sniper on that rooftop... Oh wait! That’s just Sharma aunty with her usual peeking at all the people walking in and out of the gate”. I have been getting these sudden anxiety attacks at normal times. Even when I’m just pooping. And did you know, the worst time to get an anxiety attack is when you’re dumping a deuce? I learnt it the hard way.

My phone and my earpods are my best friends when I’m out and about. I’m always plugged in with the most random songs playing. That drains (or at the least eases) out my fear of that imaginary assassin in the train or the people talking about me, about how I robbed that imaginary bank and now am in the train with the loot and just in my underwear. I check myself a million times to see if somehow I left my zip open. It would be really weird (and stupid) if I robbed a bank and then decided to take the train, in my underwear, as a getaway vehicle. The perfect getaway vehicle is a Red Subaru WRX with Baby as the designated driver (Yes! I finally managed an Edgar Wright reference in my writing).

But even if I had that, robbing a bank is the most anxiety inducing activity that I can think of (along with the millions of other activities, like taking a dump). The plan includes masks, a major blow to my claustrophobia that’s triggered even by a VR headset. Then I’d have to gather guns. Even though I’m good at video games, a real life shootout is the last thing I’d want to be involved with. Also, the recoil of any gun might just break my skeletal structure of a dying body. Even if somehow, miraculously, I get all of that correct, I’ll have to gather a team. And there comes in the real problem. Social anxiety (along with a repulsive face) prohibits my ability to converse with a large group of people in person. Mind the fact that anything more than 1, is a “large group”.

To make the perfect sandwich, start by cutting the crust off the bread and keeping it in a perfect square. Next, layer one slice of the bread with sandwich spread and the other with chipotle. Meanwhile, set the pan to heat up and drizzle some oil in it. As the oil sizzles, lemme tell you that the best way to deal with anxiety is, trying to count to 10 as you breathe slowly. But here’s the thing, when I get one of those, I sometimes forget to count. The order messes up in my brain. I’ve been bad at math all my life. But counting shouldn’t be that tough. It should be as easy as... well, as breathing. But the anxiety demon makes even that a tough nut to crack. So here’s what you do. Try making a deal with the demon. If he’s generous enough, he will let this one slide by and let you breathe.

The oil should be hot enough now. Get like 3-4 bacon strips ready and slowly let them go in the oil. A few seconds for each side should be enough. Be careful so as to not burn them. I usually don’t salt the bacon as I find the default salt setting to be perfect. But then again, dealer's choice. Lay down the cooked strips on one of the slices of bread. Tear off some of the lettuce leaves and lay it on the other. Do not forget to wash the lettuce before use. You don’t know where it came from. I mean where the store got it from. And most of the stores aren’t the cleanest places. So just be careful on that front. I know it’s a long process. And with the noise inside your brain, sometimes it becomes unbearable. Most of the time I end up ordering in. But the menus and options stress me out. It’s always tough to select between a pizza, burger, and a bowl of spaghetti. So just breathe and try to get the home-made sandwich ready.

Almost done. The final ingredient is... “Shit... I forgot the eggs”. *Anxiety begins*