Flores Para Los Muertos

Sick days taken after weekends or holidays raise red flags, so if you're going to take them they'd better mean something.

Didn't really plan on calling out sick today. Didn't need to, per se. I'm awake. Perfectly capable of getting my shit together enough to make it to work on time. But I know when my body's run-down. My immune system's shot and I was trying to gently ease myself back from the brink over the past 3 days, but ultimately I didn't let up.

No fucking smoking today. This time, I mean it. No booze, no smoking, no matter how much better I start to feel. I'm going to clean up my apartment a bit and get some non-blog-related writing done. Perhaps pay a visit to the gym for a cardio-boost.

You know what's going to happen, don't you...? A few years -- ten years, twenty years down the line -- everything's going to be beautiful for me. Wife, kids, career, finances. And then I'll drop dead. Because of all these self-destructive years when nothing was working out for me and I lived as if there were no tomorrow.

...

... okay, maybe 1 or 2 cigarettes today...

... fuck the future... I'm sad right now!