So they send me to the doctor, doctor sends me to the hospital, hospital sends me to the pharmacy, pharmacy sends me home with a bottle of pills. I would’ve taken them. I really would’ve. If I hadn’t seen what I had seen. Doctors plagued by demons of bad conscience. Ghouls and other critters roaming the hospital halls. A pharmacy getting its stock eaten up by ceiling crawlers.
Surely you agree there’s no way I can trust any of those situations? Who the fuck knows where these pills have been. Well, I know. Just like I know there’s nothing they would’ve done anyway, to help me or otherwise. I’m beyond help. We all are. But that’s not what you want to hear.
If only they’d listened… it wouldn’t have changed a thing. It wouldn’t have been different, yet I can’t shake the feeling it might’ve been. Even I can’t see where that feeling comes from. Divine intervention? God wouldn’t dare touch me. Nobody would touch a man who gouged his own eyes out.
I have no idea.