Becoming HSD: Part 2

I had reached home from a long walk of yelling at random elderly people. This might have been one of the most dissappointing mornings i've endured for a long time. Just thoughts of how played i was,yet satisfied at the beatdown i had left, left me in awe. I walk through my apartment door. The smell of week old chinese food consumes the little bit of clean oxygen that is swimming through my lungs. I vomit a little bit in my mouth. Then i search out the source of the rotten chinese food. I rummage around the house like a police dog searching for the stolen drugs. After 35 seconds i give up. I raise off my paws and walk into my bedroom. I plop down face first onto my bed. A "SPLAT" sound comes from under my face. I found the Chinese food. I get up and yell profane words. The towel that i wipe my face with was appearently used to wipe vomit off a dog's tongue after a long night of partying with the humans. I decide to just take a shower. I turn the water on to a broiling hot temperture. I walk into the kitchen and decide to take three cancer sticks out a pack and light. I have no lighter. Today is a day like no other. Cant like my RazeLungs and my face is covered with chinese food, dog drool and drunk druggie vomit. The thought of throwing heavy things out the window of my 20 story high apartment window while screaming the reasons why i hate this city, had crossed my mind but i instead took the alternate choice. I look for another way to light my sticks of death before my water gets shut off. After a long ten minutes of trying to get household items to combust into flames, I just go light it with the stove. I light three. I step into the shower with dirty saliva in my throat. I wash the putrid filth off my face. As the blisteringly hot water runs through my dirty black locks i think about why today was a terrible day. I think about how this girl create a terrible blue aura around me. She put me in such a bad mood. She screwed me over. She was not who i thought she was. But whose fault was that for beliveing. But why do i care. Why do i get myy feelings so caught up in the little things that hold no real value within slowly chugging heart. Why do I sometimes think in past tense then switch back to present tense. All questions whose answers really mean nothing. And i could care less. I step out the shower with a nonchalant, careless feeling. I say BUNK the towel. I drip all over the house. I turn on lights with the curtains open so the night time city civilians can all witness a sight that all hope to witness and behold. Wet nakedness makes me happy.