Day 7.My throat burns. My eyes feel like a teaspoon of Aluminum Silicate have been placed under each eyelid. Digestively, I'm a mess--man wasn't designed to wash down pizza with hot tea. My liver ponders its purpose. (Why am I here? What is my duty? I'm unloved. I'm ugly.) My head, it strives for creativity, yet falls short. It cannot disengage from the myriad of pressing work tasks at hand. Coffee, sitting idly by, wonders, "Where is my dear nighttime friend? What have you done to him?! Will I ever see him again? I'm lonely. I am so, so lonely..."
Man, I sure hope I can finally get a beer in Dubai.
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