it depresses me to realize that i’ve become one of the zombies shopping late at night in bleak, overly fluorescently lit, dingy yellow dollar store on the outskirt of small texas town.

i watch them shuffle around, talking to themselves, looking lost, swiveling their heads frantically, searching for cheap store brands to match their coupons and save what little social security money they live on so they can buy tobacco and alcohol.

who the **** am i to judge what makes a person happy when it’s hard to find and so temporary.