What is wrong with me?
My pulse is racing.
My mind feels like a vast quarry with visions of Edvard Munch's "The Scream" racing through it. How did this happen?
Was it the fact that I drank a bottle of wine last night while playing poker with someone on the other side of the planet earth, shortly before watching TV and drinking a Bacardi Limone and Coke?
Was it the fact that I got six hours of sleep last night and woke up on my own at 8:30am on a Sunday morning, when I usually can't wake up until noon after going to bed at 2:30am?
Was it the cappuchino that I drank this afternoon with my brunch that gave me a caffeine high, and I am now coming off of it just like I did with Juliano's last year when I had a mocha on an empty stomach?
Was it hearing that the end of my cohabitation of the best city in the world with Paul and Cathy is now just months and weeks away?
Was it hearing about the plans for my vacation to Argentina, which is being organized by someone else, someone that I don't know?
Is it the culmination of all these things, with a strong base being founded by last night's activities and the effects of the chemicals on my body?
What is wrong with me?
My pulse is racing.
