him again

seems like the self-defeatist bud in my life is rearing his ugly head again.
he was last seen trying successfully stopping me from handing in my photo-journalism assignments.

he then took me to a night-club and introduced me to the intoxicating bosom of miss escapism.

let go now i tell you....dear miss poison ivy. i have roads to take and promises to keep.

the answer kind sir it seems is in the waking up and smelling of the newsprint.

but dear mr. conscience i have a cold.

drat...double drat.

is there hope for a raving hypochondriac?