It's 8pm on Saturday night. I should get dressed and give Danielle and John a phone call and see if they are going to karaoke. I don't really know that I want to go but I do know that perhaps I should, just as a reason to get dressed and out of my bedroom. I feel so tired. So hopeless. There are medical bills from long ago that the insurance should have covered but for whatever reason did not and now the credit people are coming to collect. Out of my pocket. For treatment that did me no good. I'm not doing well at all. Hopefully it'll pass. Hopefully the up will come again. This is bipolar disorder. It sucks. This is the low point. So low. I hate it. I haven't accomplished anything in days and days. I just cry and I sleep. I ache all over. I feel exhausted. Sleepy. Useless. Worthless.