Touch the light

It's so close, I can TASTE it. I can feel the words, disjointed, circulating in my mind and the images are all there, but the language refuses to come out of my fingers. It makes me so frustrated. All these things give me ideas, but I can't quite illustrate them. I guess it's my own fault, getting so out of practice. But damn it, it always came so easily before. I need to start carrying around my notebook. Maybe then I'd be more likely to write. Or maybe I'm just kidding myself; maybe my writing days are completely over, and I'm going to fester uncreatively for the rest of my goddamned life. Oh, wait, I'm doing art class; I guess I can't entirely fall apart creatively.

*clasps head in hands*

I'm fucking sick of this. I don't write, I feel stupid because I don't understand calculus, I don't have close friends here, but I'm feeling so anti-social tonight.

I just want to be alone in my room. By myself. But no, I have a fucking roommate.

Don't get me wrong, she's really really sweet. But there's someone in my room, someone intruding on my thoughts at all times. I just want to be alone. I just want to get away.

Someone take me away.