The Flesh Is Weak, The Grind Is Stupid (But I’ll Do It Again Anyway)

So I'm sitting on my couch. Burnt out. Cooked. Done. A walking cautionary tale in human form.

And yet here I am again, asking myself the same dumb question: why do I keep doing this? Why do I keep pushing myself to the point of mental combustion like some overworked MacBook fan screaming in the middle of summer?

It's constant. It's inevitable. It's basica…