If you want to destroy my sweater...

I feel haggard, like my soul is fraying around the edges.
The thread unravels, ripping through seams as I am pulled in a million directions at once.
I've been up for 32 hours, 2.5 of which have been dedicated to sleep, and all I've eaten is a banana, string cheese, and a granola bar.
I stayed all night last night in the lab, repeating PCR and running electrophoresis and restriction digests over and over again in a vain attempt to get viable product from my (crucial, no less) samples. I slept crunched up in a lab chair from three to six a.m., waking every few minutes to adjust my badly angled position across the desk. I remember standing in the middle of the floor at four-thirty and staring at the clock above the door, one word on my mind: why?
Why can't I get data we can use?
That's one third of the grant proposal that officially can't be included, thanks to us.
I can't stand it.

And never take a chemistry exam after all of that. Trust me, you won't even be able to get your letters in the right order, let alone remember how to calculate bond order and molecular orbitals. The sad thing is, I had the potential to do really well on that test--just try doing technical chemical work for literally twenty hours beforehand and then see how well you remember the orbital hybridization of your polyatomic ions. I'm exaggerating; I think I probably hit the high A-minus/low-A range, but still--this was a test I could have aced had I been halfway coherent. It's entirely frustrating.

Above all, I need to sleep. But that isn't going to happen anytime soon; I have at least three hours of homework. Needless to say, I can't wait for the weekend. I am experiencing a desperate lack of "me" time. And by "desperate lack," I mean I haven't had one single moment to myself all week.