In the morning over here on the west coast. I am effectively going crazy without actually chemically going crazy. My final manuscript (MS) has to be in at the end of the month and I have just suddenly realized the ending does not make any !@#$%^& sense.

There is nothing comfortable about re-reading your entire life.

That's pretty much it.

Quitting smoking was unsuccessful. Quitting cocaine was.

Ah yes, looking at those side by side makes the former seem better then the latter. Nevertheless, here is a shameful, sickening picture of me. What's bette then this with my cheap coffee?