One of my roommates is not vegetarian.

He is cooking meat next to my room.

The smell is inescapable.

I should open the window.

BRB.

Now the room is cold.

And I am hungry.

My stomach doesn’t know that

I don’t approve of murder.

Something else I don’t approve of

Is people who look like people

I would like to be friends with,

But who

Mysteriously,

And cowardly,

Vanish.

This has happened to me enough

To be a sign.

I guess I talk 

And move my hands

Too much.

So I warn you:

You won’t like me

Unless you’re nuts.