I sleep in the living room of my house. The couch is old fashion with worn out cusions and a slab a wood under that. At night, when I toss and turn, the cusions slip off and my legs rub against the wood. Light pours in from the street light that destroys my beautiful darkness, then the train shatters my solitude. Fuck this. Why should you know where I sleep? If you know this then you will understand why I will act some ways sometimes. Yes, I feel the world owes me something, but doesn't everybody. I am self-centered, but I care about everyone. I am very hateful, but I love hard. I am fake, but at least I admit it. I am Monique and I live in Texas.