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Sur la plage

After a long and painful process of introspection, I came to realize that in order to become a successful doctor and a balanced person, my to-do list for the weekend (and for the rest of my life) was to be as follows:

– study more;
– travel less;
– eat healthier stuff;
– go to sleep at decent hours;
– read a chapter of Maupassant or psychiatry whenever feeling like looking for (and eventually booking) a flight.

And I stuck to the plan accordingly; except I did none of the above. Becauuuse what I actually did looked a tad more different than what I had expected I’d do:

✔ looked frenetically for flights (and I miiiiight have just found something nice);
✔drank champagne and beer and ate fries at midnight from some random street vendor who for some reason asked me whether I was Iraqi;
✔went to sleep at 3:30 AM because I was busy raping the Ryanair app;
✔roamed the streets and beaches of Marseille while eating gaufres, a big slice of pizza and a huge Panini au Nutella; don’t know whether the beer and the Coke and the extra-sweetened coffee are even worth mentioning anymore.

I’m not proud of this, but I can’t seem to help it. And how I wish I could. I wish I could stick to a schedule and to a diet, but I feel that I’d betray the inner god of Chaos that dwells within me if I did any of that. Besides, there’s almost no point in enjoying these wonderfully sunny pre-November days without a full and undisputed reign of hedonism.

This is no good.
I’m no good.
And it’s not gonna last for sure.
But why not enjoy it while it does and as long as my butt still fits in my pants?

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