Two confessions

There are two things that I will confess to which will probably put my career in jeopardy--the present one and the what-could-be-my-future career:

1. I am no longer the "hawk-eye" I used to be. Worse, I am the thing hawk-eyes look out for. With that, I am saying I am beginning to carelessly, if not mindlessly, miss and mix-up my letters and words. And for a writer, this is never a good thing.

2. I have undoubtedly grown dumb. I can lament for my brain cells that died because of sleep deprivation but it won't bring back my poor neurons. For that I feel like my IQ is at a constant drop.

It seems that nature is punishing me for taking my humanity for granted, for taking the abuse of my own body too far.

Now, I cannot help but wonder if it really is all worth it.

And this shitty situation I'm in, the feeling that I have deteriorated, validates my personal quote to my so-called relationship, the relationship that keeps me preoccupied 90% of the time, the relationship that has taken over my life...

"I love you but you are not good for me."