too much to think about

If anyone was reading this I'd apologize for the double post issue of late.
But if anyone is bothering to follow my rants I don't think this would be such an issue as to be worthy of apology.
I feel like I need to get out of the house. I should go out tonight. Probably. I'm feeling sort of trapped. I will go out. If I can remain conscious and semi-sane for about another 2 hours. It is likely that I will go insane before that.
Oh-it's a bad idea. I'll stay in.
Good little folklorists stay in on Saturday night.
But I am neither good nor particularly little and I'm not much of a folklorist really.
I've accomplished not a bloody lot today.
I'm hopeless. There's not going to be any papers to turn in during the second week of December. I'll be kicked out of the program for failure to complete the necessary tasks and in short order I'll be drinking what little money I am able to acquire through pawning of my belongings and sitting on Lower Broad with an open guitar case but no guitar. NO future and nothing in my life about which to be proud.
To put it succinctly-I am so fucked. Fucked by own doing-at that. And there's not much to do about it but hope it ends quickly and the memory of the humiliation fades in short order.
Why can't I write about what I'm supposed to? Why do I have NO dedication to task? What the hell is wrong with me?