At about 10:00 am, this day, im supposed to be back in Cleveland, thinking about how i didn't wanna leave NY, and about how much shit i have to do, and thats before i take my ass back to hell on earth (i.e. work). Im supposed to be anyway...

A higher power (or the NY weather) saw fit to strike me with an ugly cold however, so my ass is still firmly planted in the Bronx at the moment. Im not sure if it were divine intervention or not, but to hear The H. tell it, "God made (me) sick because he didn't want you to leave me..." How thoroughly sickening. I mean that in the sweetest way possible of course, as i appreciate the sugary sentiment of such a statement.

Im sure that somewhere, its written that one should not ingest cough syrup, alcohol, and "herbs and spices" all in the same 36 hour period, but im not dead yet, so I'll assume im fine. Other than the purple hearts and pink clovers flashing in front of my eyes. Ill just chalk that up to happiness for not having to be home yet.

Thats always the most fucked up part about taking a vacation. Eventually the shit has to end, and theres no worse feeling in the world than going back to a place you dont want to be in in the first place. Although home has gotten alot more bearable in the last year or so, it still doesnt feel like home really. It makes me feel like im stuck in a holding pattern , waiting for something to break. Cleveland isnt exactly the kinda place that bursting with opportunity, although i could attribute a portion of that to my tendency to procrastinate , and stay in the same situations too long.

A perfect example of that would probably be my job. Ive been with the company for about 2 years now, and the last 9 months of that has been nothing but hell for me, to the point where it started to affect my health. Despite my disgust for my job, and the fact that the promotion i got still didnt appease me, or my wallet, i find it hard to get to the level of indifference alot of people have for their jobs. I still feel a sense of guilt when i call off sick, even if my body is telling me i'm two steps from death (Although for the record im supposed to be at work today, and i dont feel the least bit horrible about my ass not being there...). I still feel a sense of obligation to fulfilling the job that i have, even if i know its running me into the ground.

It would be easy to just quit and find something else, but sometimes when you feel like you've put so much into something, it seems like a waste to let it all go. Something like some relationships ive been in...

It would be so much easier to just leave it all alone, but my ass always had to play the knight in shining armor, and stay when everyone else would have bounced. I have a decided inability to look out for myself ahead of others, which always leads to others getting ahead of me. They have a word for people like that in this world - suckers. Well not I...not anymore.

My still being here might be divine intervention...or it might just be that i realized its time i start doing what i like, instead of doing what i feel like i have to.

Feels kinda good...

Might just be the drugs though...