Chapter 3
The blanket of self denial rings loud today as I turn into the hallway. Escaping the ridicule of that reflection. That utter contemptment it has for me...trying desperately to pull me into its cycle I spin head first into my room only to be confronted with yet another hygiene related cultural ineptitude.
Chosing my daily attire consists mainly of sniffing dirty clothes lookings fo the least offensive fragrance. Strange how stink sticks. Dirty clothes have this feel to them the way they hang on my body clining to me as if begging for some type of clensing. Scrubbing vigorous seems to be the only way to ileviate the stench of failure saturated in every fiber of my actions.
My poor self image is reflected outward wafting amongst the room dancing off the old factory senses of the well groomed. Only seldom do they react leading me only to accelerate the gravity of my neglect.