Insomniac.

This isn't news, but I have trouble sleeping at proper hours.
I have also switched to rolling my own smokes, in a valiant attempt to cut down because I know it will eventually become a chore to roll one.
My Lunar New Year resolution to live the supermodel diet of coffee and cigarettes - which I tweaked to my own Rufus preference of Milo-peng and rolled-cigarettes - is not going very well. The over-surplus of Bee Cheng Hiang and pineapple tarts at home continue to give me Tyra Thighs.
I don't bother concealing my eyebags/circles anymore. I don't bother doing up my hair, and I wear clothes without choosing them with great intent in the morning.
Maybe I should stop shaving, too.