24.

I come to and I have no idea where I am. I've got snot all over my face and the front of my shirt. Smashed all over my right sleeve is what looks like mashed black beans? I don't know. I taste dirt and smell burnt bread. My teeth hurt. My head is pounding. I don't know what is going on. I remember the hard edges of a shaved head and a furry man. What the fuck did I do? I hear this constant clicking. Steady and consistent. Ticking. I remember being in a bar? With some douche bag? How drunk did I get? How long was I asleep? I remember the color orange. That girl. I'd been up for so long I must have passed out from exhaustion, apparently I fell asleep on my garbage bag full of clothes. I look around making sure all my stuff is present and I see the numbers written on my hand and remember what the hell I'm suppose to be doing. I have got to get focused. I can't do this shit anymore. Shit, I don't even know what time it is. I change shirts in the alley because I'd like to be some what presentable. Well, at least as presentable as I can get. As I'm stuffing the filthy shirt into my bag I see a little robot walk by and I'm suddenly struck with a great and terrible sadness. It hits me in a weird kind of surge, completely washing over me. Poseidon weeps. I sit back down against the wall and rub my temples. My head and heart ache. What the hell kind of dream did I just wake up from? These mood changes are getting seriously out of hand. I think I'm honestly losing my mind. Not in a funny like, "Ha ha ha I can't remember where I left my keys" kind of way, but more like I might need serious help. Who's gonna plug my ears while I scream? I leave the alleyway and realize I'm no where near where I last remember being. I decide to postpone the housing search and just get a room at a YMCA. Only twenty bucks to share a room with another down and out loser is quite the deal.