"I hate my life" - I say when I hold back the urge to vomit.
I was in the bathroom at Josh's apartment, throwing up from my condition.
What condition you ask me?
My dear reader, do you really think that there is something or someone worrying about the quality of food, water or anything in hell?
The food is of poorer quality and some admit on the packaging that they add drugs to addict the public.
Needless to say, my menu is extremely limited.
The tap water is dirty and slightly brown, I need to filter it and run it through some clean cloths in boiling water before waiting for it to freeze in the fridge.
And it still tastes like earth.
I stop staring at the toilet water with my vomit (and my last attempt at making a meal from the available ingredients my body refused to accept) and flush the toilet.
I look in the mirror and see my condition, dark circles under my eyes from lack of sleep, my already fair skin was pale and worst of all.
My beard.
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And believe me, it grows fast, if I shave it in the morning, the next day I have to do it again.
On the one hand it's good, since I was 15 my beard and hair started to grow, it made me not look like a walking piece of palm heart as the hair on my arm and beard darkens the skin a bit .
But it's bad because, like I said before, the beard is definitely not good yet and I honestly hate body hair.
So usually I shave my beard and trim some hair like armpits, but here I don't have time for this.I'm between 3 to 5 days, and no, I don't know how long I've been here, the lack of sleep and the fact that I keep away from the windows doesn't help, so... yeah, I'm bad.
So you tell me; "but Gustav, why don't you try to sleep or eat something, even if it's simple."
I answer you: DO YOU THINK I DIDN'T TRY?
I had to convince Josh to take what little money he had and buy something decent on the land.
He bought instant noodles ... and spent a third of the money on cigarettes.
And I was weighing up my knife idea for a long time after that.
But that wasn't the worst.
It was Josh trying to get in my pants every 5 minutes.
This bastard is constantly trying to get close, rubbing himself or scaring me while I try to sleep.
