Confessions of an Ephedrine Eater

It's presently four in the morning, and I'm not feeling so good. I'm dry-mouthed, jittery, and I have to piss every five minutes. Plus the cops just blew away some kid who pointed a crossbow with a laser sight at them, practically outside my front door. I'm really wishing my shepherd would stop pacing, because the clicky-clack, clicky-clack of her toenails on the hardwood floors is driving me mad, and I've searched my apartment five times and still can't find the goddamn clippers. That, combined with the noise from the shooting scene outside, has set my skin crawling. I can't sleep. I'm spun. I'm shutting down now.