I can’t do this.

I can’t, I can’t, I just can’t.

I want to be locked in a room with the music, a pen, a notebook and various items.

I want to get mad enough at the things that has caused me to write in the first place and destroy all the items that surround me. I want to yell, I want to cry, I want to fall onto the floor…

because that seems like the only thing that will soothe me right now.