Cold

It's cold today, and my room is filled with cigarette smoke. These cigarettes are too strong, Lark full flavors, purchased with 27 dimes from lack of larger currency, but it doesn't bother me because my tongue is burnt from the miso soup I consume as my sole nutritional input in these days leading up to payday. I'm using my bowl as an ashtray cause I'm too lazy to stand up and get the ashtray from the porch, and I just spent 5 minutes staring blankly at the computer screen filled with images of a smug couple, doing my best to prevent my objectivity from turning into bitterness. My nipples are scabbed because my piercings are irritated from the hard water in this country, but I don't soak them because I need both hands to type.
The weather today suits my mood. There is no wind today, different from the past weeks, only a dull, uniformly cloudy sky and a dull, pervasive cold which reaches me despite my heater seated three feet away.
When I unclench my fists to type, I am filled with resolve to better myself. There's a quiet, but intense river of contempt within me that I hope to channel into progress. I hate days like this.