The worst trip of my life is over.Lots of friends around but having no fuckin fun at all. I don't know whats wrong with me. Returned to writing after such a hiatus. I hated the trip. Had minimal fun. Couldn't enthuse myself to do anything. Added to that I am sitting in the airport waiting to head down to a bane of a job. I don't know what the fuck about this job at times makes me happy. I'm a whore to the client. Sell my services staying up nights if needed. My body operating like clock-work, ticking morning and night.

I contemplating ending all this misery all over again. I'm again entering this phase where I'm not sure of shit. I guess I am entering my original self again, the pessimistic fuck that I really am