Both myself and my room fit that description right now. I have some kind of chest infection, shortly to be exacerbated by cigarette smoke, and my brain is definitely being an utter bastard to live with right now. Fuck it, it's Saturday night, I could be out right now, receiving adoration and alcohols. Instead, I'm sat in my room, dying.
And as for my room... the amount of times I've tripped over the stuff covering the floor is uncountable. And the amount of times I've stood on something which should not be stood on, and the amount of times I've randomly thrown extra stuff onto the floor, is getting stupid. I can not see anything. My bed, desk, floor and chair have disappeared. Just to get to this laptop I had to move a monumental stack of rubbish and/or valuable stuff. I have to balance my plate of food on the typewriter, and leave my glass of rum and coke perilously close to my glasses of dirty paint-water and white spirit. Even my pet mouse has been living in darkness, her cage hidden under a stack of clothes. This is fucking squalid. And what am I doing? I'm sticking pictures on the walls. That way, nobody will look too closely at the floor.
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