The only time I felt at peace during this weekend was (1) when I was asleep (and they were sleep periods of epic proportions—I do not doubt that I slept more on the three days of the long weekend than I have in the two weeks preceding) and (2) when I was in transit.

These days, it seems that nothing makes me happier than being unconscious, and barring that, barrelling down a 12-lane freeway at 90 mph.

I seriously need a vacation. I need to go somewhere where no one can bother me, where I can just brood on my own, and, as usual, stare at the sea.

I really don't understand why I let my mind get totally fried like this.