Woah. I didn't know you could experience ego death on Boone's Farm and methadone.
Wait, no. This might just be regular death.
It's not. It's not. It isn't fair.
It goes on?! Echoing silence and shining dark? Always. Cold linoleum on my fingertips unending. Final taste on my tongue, sickening sweet artificial strawberry... forever?
It goes on, and it isn't fair.