Walking In...

So, I come in the house, and I just want to go to bed. I want to sleep because it is late and I'll be waking up early. I walk in and there are four guys, one of them has a credit card or ID or something in his hand, a plate in his lap, and I white line of powder on the plate. I walk in on him about to sniff it up his nose.
It makes me angry. He's a cute guy, I've never seen him before, but he's a cute guy dressed in nice clothes and he's probably...18? 19? Maybe younger, maybe older, I don't know.
But all this powder, all these pipes, all these lines, they make me want to....
THey make me want to strangle this stupid guy with nice clothes on and pour the stupid powder on top of his head and it makes me want to scream and it makes me want to kick him in the head, because maybe his brain may make a positive alteration.
I go to sleep instead. Read a book about drug addiction and recovery and going to rehab. WHY?
To hell if I know. To hell with the four guys across the hall. Before I go to sleep I hear someone across the hall sniff hard.
Good. Night. I don't know why it gets to me, I don't know why I care, but over the last two years, I've come to grip with these past times that people have and I've come to grip on my senses and my reaction to them.
Oh. Well. What's there to do? I don't know.
Oh. Well..