I woke up today and screamed at the wooden ceiling. My brows furrow at first, and then I burst into laughter at myself. What a day to be alive. I wear a short-sleeve outside, allowing the wind to sink its teeth into my bare arms because I never expected to be alive this long. I stroll down the street and actually smile at every passerby. Maybe I'll be alive today. As I sit on an empty park bench, I pull out my pack of Marlboro Blacks. I chain smoke five cigarettes just to feel the bite of nicotine in the back of my throat. A man strolls in front of me with a young girl on his back. They both avert my gaze, the stigma of cigarette smokers. She drops her tiny little shoe on the grass. I pick it up and yell, "You dropped your tiny little shoe!" To which, they ignore me. I persist to follow them and poke the man on his shoulder. He looks frightened at first. The man thanks me and smiles. What a day, what a day to be alive!