Bugged Out

Bugging Out

 Day five.  I got a four hour nap in some underground parking lot.  I woke up to Monday morning commuters slamming their doors and honking their horns to get to work.  What a racket. 

I'm not much for downers but a 22 ounce of anything alcoholic would suite me just fine right about now.  The pressure of getting out and finding a new place to park just to pretend I'm waiting for someone or thing is driving me coo coo for fucking Co Co Puffs.

All I'm thinking is that my gas lights been on since yesterday and I'm sure to run out of gas if I try to get anywhere further than a block or two away.

This really sucks.  I've did all I could just to get a little dope and now I've got no place to do it.  I don't even like the fuckers I get my shit from or I'd just kick it with them. 

Either way I'm wasting a good high on hiding all around my own town.  What am I hiding from anyways?  By the time I realize I've got no reason to hide I end up finally making my way home or calling for a ride when I eventually do run out of gas. 

By that time I'm coming down and getting more cranky and irritable than a spoiled kid that didn't get his way.  I'm the worst I just know I am.  For some reason I continue on.  I don't know why the few people left in my life still put up with my shit.  There must be a God.  If there wasn't I'm not quite sure where I'd be. 

For now I'll stay parked until security comes through and asks me to pay or something.  Fuck this sucks. 



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