It's 5:40 in the morning, and I haven't gone to bed yet. That's partially because I was watching Ugly Betty, but mostly because I've been fretting and worrying about things.

I know it's stupid. There's absolutely nothing I can do right now, for example, about the fact that I have numerous collection agencies calling me. I don't have any money for them, and sitting on my couch chewing my lower lip to shreds doesn't fix that. I could do something about my reading for school that I'm behind on, if I could focus. I can't do anything right now about the fact that I'm simultaneously lonely and apathetic about even trying to have a relationship (even if I knew where to look). Picking at anything blemish-like on my arms won't help my frustration over my job sucking. Etc. etc. etc. I just feel anxious, uncertain, jittery.

I should have gone to bed when I got home; but I wasn't tired. The new hours at work are fucking with my sleep cycle even more than usual. And now I feel so keyed up I can't even contemplate going to bed.

I feel like I should make a list of all the things I need and want to get done. But I know when I finally do crawl in to bed, they're all just going to spin around endlessly in my head anyway. Making a list is only going to lead to a different sort of spinning, one pondering priorities and lack of time and lack of resources, and the hopelessness of certain things anyway.

I'm so tired of acting happy. Part of the reason I've dreaded going to work lately is because I have to act happy--not just to customers, I can fake that easily enough. But my friends at work know something is wrong, and I don't have the words to explain it. I can't even explain it to myself. Which again is a sign my meds need adjusting, so I should just shut up and go to bed and make the appointment Monday morning.