Too much time on my hands

I'm a thinker. Which is a problem. I live alone, besides my beautiful puppy Brindy, whom I am very appreciative of. Having said that, I hate living alone. Especially at times like these, when I'm in trouble. Not legal trouble, thank God, but financial trouble. Problems that I have, I have created, most of the time. My income has been halved, then halved again, then stomped all over and swept up, like so much popcorn on a theater floor. What the broom missed, that's what I live on now. I have ran out of what money I had, and I saw it coming, but it seems like I'm incapable of doing anything about it. Now, it's all I think about. All day. All night. I'm back to not sleeping, without the drugs this time. I know, I'm kinda all over the place with this post, but it's damn hard for me to concentrate right now. I don't even know why I'm writing it, but I've gotta do something, find some kind of outlet for all this anxiety and tension that's building and filling me up to capacity until I think my heads gonna explode. I need to smoke some weed, but my lovely VA doctor won't prescribe me narcotics if I'm using pot. Small minded? YES. But, I really need the painkillers to function on a daily basis. So, right now, I'm broke, anxious, in pain, all alone, which is killing me softly to quote my man Chappelle. In I.B., I'd be walking Brindy on the beach, I knew 90 percent of the folks walking by, I HATE THIS PLACE.