"Andrew what the ******** is wrong with my life I'm at the computer with only a shirt on absolutely no bottoms fully knowing I am on my period until I start dripping on my own furniture so what do I do I wipe myself off with my hand, smell my hand as I'm getting up to wash it off roughly describing the scent to a delicious cheese burger wondering why when I haven't even eaten a cheese burger in two months and how is it I smell of salt and beef when I shower every day and when I get to the sink I observe in a scientific way that there is a dead lady bug a cockroach and like five gnats drowned in this morning's coffee with a bug scurrying away from the cup like it too was attempting a shot at the incredibly sugary death (it's now like 3:30am) but the corn on the cob, decaying shark meat and chicken bones from last sunday's trailer park cook out on the opposite side of the sink is totally untouched and not even crawling with maggots like it should be because apparently the bugs in the neighborhood only dig sugar so I wash my hand off wipe it with a new roll of toilet paper then go to pee make it to the bathroom and then sit down start blood-peeing suddenly realizing that I'm living like a filthy wreck on top of ******** forgetting the toilet paper over there by the kitchen sink and I sort of just laugh cry at my life and smell my hand again..."