They just keep coming. Thousands and thousands of them. No matter how much I scrub and spray, as soon as one goes down, ten more take its place.
It appears the roaches have banded together and are on the offensive. They are literally leaping out of the bug-sprayed cabinets and trying to attack me. (Seriously, one just landed on my arm.) Blind and stumbling through the poison-filled haze, the roaches march on, clinging desperately to life. To freedom.
All night long, I could feel phantom cockroaches crawling all over me, burrowing into my skin and laying hundreds of thousands of tiny eggs. They have literally infected my thoughts. I’m starting to lose my grip on reality. I fear the end will come soon.
This may well be the last time you hear from me. I expect the cockroaches will eventually take over the apartment and enslave us all in the dark, sticky underbelly of my kitchen cabinetry. If that is the case, I don’t suppose they’ll let me keep my iPhone. (Communication with the outside is discouraged.) I’m not sure they have a 3G network down there anyway.
So farewell, friends. It’s been real.