When disaster strikes...

Well... 

Successful day on the 17th, not so much the day after.  It started well enough.  Clearly the practicing got taken to extremes, and a whole host of bad choices led to where it inevitably did.  Why oh why did you opt for that last Guinness?  Why oh why did the young kids have to sit down where they did?  Why oh why did you leave your bag unattended at the gate?   

A wake-up call?  Maybe.  Embarrassing not even really the right word, some shame and guilt and unwilling to accept things.  On a downward spiral to a point that has only one end.  I have this aching whole in my heart and I just want to crawl away and hide.  The idea of the bus is a good one.  Too bad about the train, but maybe the road, metaphorically, will be good.

There are consequences, it seems.  How did it almost become a "physical" confrontation?  That part I do not remember.  In no rush to head back there.  How terribly sad a state to put yourself in, how inexplicable as well.  Just beyond what is proper.

I think it means a re-evaluation.  You will kill yourself if you keep this up, and that is not necessarily an exaggeration.  It is time to get things in order. 

Sort it out, and such.