Tonight the void is especially overwhelming. It feels that the world is too big, so much that it consumes us entirely. It might be the ending of the book. PKD's novels' ending often gnaw at one's mind. Do Android Dreams Of Electric Sheep is an excellent example. This book, which is endearingly titled Flow My Tears, The Policeman Said is no exception. Sitting there in the dark, I have to blink to remind myself that I'm there. My chest is clinging to the folds of my vessels and spirits like anchor to the bottom of the ocean. Maybe it's my patient. A kindly old gentleman whom endured his gastric pain patiently as not to disturb the busy nursing staff, every word from him was a polite nod and smile as he could speak no further English than 'Yesh'. He was diagnosed with aggressive advanced cancer with poor prognosis today.
Maybe it's just me. Wanting attention again, kicking up a fuss. Like a baby who cries even after he got the candy. But somehow it's not just that. I'm too tired to care about myself tonight. I have to blink to remind myself that I exist. At all.
Maybe all I need is some sleep. I refuse because I don't believe in sleep. Why, she had asked. Because, I replied, I believe we only exist for as long as we are awake.
Life is too fleeting to remain nonexistent.
Thus the irony in existing to be play host to parasitic void. Bittersweet infection.
Next book, Kierkegaard.
When the world ends, all that remains are tapeworms, ticks, sand wasps, guilt and regrets.
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