It's too arduous to even bother going to see the doctor about 'feeling down' for however fucking long it's been, instead you just stumble through your daily fucking routine choking down cigarettes like there's no tomorrow, mainly because you hope that there won't be a tomorrow and you stare at your reflection for what seems like an eternity, you're getting older and your brow is furrowed, you see the wrinkles already forming you don't know if your clothes are clean anymore and you certainly don't notice the smell of nicotine on anything anymore.
You are awash in the slight yellow tint of tobacco.
If you make it out the house you get something that could be loosely referred to as food, in an attempt to assimilate some nutrients in your system, just to keep chugging along, on your way back you get distracted and go to the off-license and end up taking a cheap bottle of wine home.
There are no painkillers left so you try to overdose on homeopathy instead.
I quit smoking in protest. They weren't killing me quick enough.
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