You wake up. You yawn. You look around. The room is still dark. You turn on the lights. You go to the bathroom. You brush your teeth. You stare at yourself in the mirror. A bleary-eyed face looks back at you. Where did that tattoo come from? Were you that drunk last night? You walk downstairs. You're hungry. You're hung over. You want food. 
 You pick up an apple. You change your mind. You reach for a bar of chocolate and donuts instead. Hell, you pick up a bottle of vodka and take a swig. It's only a short drive to work. 
 You get in your car. You drive to work. You nearly hit a few cars, but they should have avoided you. You flip them off. You stumble to work. You get to your desk. You snarl at some coworkers. You grab your hot coworkers' crotch. He stumbles back in shock. You smirk. You walk to your desk. 
 Your boss comes in. That woman is yelling at you. You put on your Beats headphone. You tune everyone out. You can't concentrate. You say "fuck this shit." You drive home. You're still drunk. 
 You pick up a book. You can't finish the book. You think it was fucking awful. You can't stand the narrative style. You hate the idiocy. You can't stand the poor decisions. 
 You take a swig of vodka and go back to bed. It's Monday, 10 AM.