Talking with cancer. We'll drink our tea.

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Talking with cancer. We'll drink our tea.

by dread06 on Sat Feb 20, 2021 12:27 AM

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Once I knew a guy with stage 4 cancer. He had a year a d a half battle with treatment. Progressive chemotherapy. Before he died he told me he talked to cancer. It had its own entity. That's weird, I said. Years ago a quark wouldn't have crossed my mind. 

Now a decade later. I go to bed after "towel head" creeped me out in the living room. If it's a living entity it's bound to follow you around, even if it's dead. When I go to bed I have a little talk. This is why my death is the worst. That's nice

At this point I'm freaked out. I want air, even if it's cold. I hallucinate all the time. I'm guessing you're 3b? If you're not 3b, get out of my room. The foam over the stove wouldn't stop friend. 

So we have funky bubbly squiggly master that's red and yellow, they say pink is worse than red. His head looks really - well, tumorous. 

And this guy that follows me around, towel head, he's black as can be. He's not even fun. He's the reason I don't shower some days. He's the reason I want to run out of the room and go for a long walk. My death is the worst

I'd rather hang out with bubbly head, even if it feels like I'm stuck in blue's clues. 

Whatever it is, I hope they're AI. I hope someday I wake up to this and friend is an iRobot version of a real comrade. I want a roommate. Even if he bubbles foam over the stove pot. Hey Friend!

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