shadowscythe77

From the notes of Dr. Malcolm Long. October 28th, 1985:
“Why do we argue? Life’s so fragile, a successful virus clinging to a speck of mud, suspended in endless nothing.
I sat on the bed.
I looked at the Rorschach blot.
I tried to pretend that it looked like a spreading tree, shadows pooled beneath it, but it didn’t.
It looked more like a dead cat I once found, the fat, glistening grubs writhing blindly, squirming over each other, frantically tunneling away from the light.
But even that is avoiding the real horror.
The horror is this: in the end, it is simply a picture of empty meaningless blackness.
We are alone.
There is nothing else.”