I can feel the insomnia coming.

Though I substitute alcohol for dinner with increased frequency, I know there are still bouts of insomnia headed my way. Maybe it's the stress from work, maybe it's the sudden disarray that surrounds my living quarters or my shaky relationship with Alan that is more on edge than ever.

Stress, sleep loss and bad skin will plague me as long as I continue to act as if I have a grey cloud following me around everywhere I go. My dermatologist can prescribe all the Michael Jackson-like topical bleaching crud he wants, what does it matter if I don't change my outlook? Gaaaa, why can't I just trust in God that everything will be okay? What, because God would have me live in a small, humble house with under 50 pairs of shoes to frame my wardrobe? Oh, the horror!!!

How pathetic.

Note to self: Pray. Stop drinking so much. Be happy with where you are... wherever that happens to be. Oh yeah, and stop acting like such a chick.