I feel too confined when I should not be. Home is not the reason since I am no longer there. But I just have this sudden urge to draw something...a human..and I can't seem to. I can't just sit somewhere and draw people...the benches are caked with snow. I can't ask a friend I go to console to pose for me..she is certainly NOT in that state of mind. When I draw, I feel like I have "something" that is mine--a work of art that I made. It is so frustrating to be stuck in your own room, not finding anything you would want to draw. For its not merely objects that I seek...but live, moving beings.

Sometimes I feel like one big sheet of glass that is waiting to shatter.
The fragility drives me insane since I can't predict when I have
To glue myself back together.
And yet, I feel like I am an illusion trapped within the glass fibres
Waiting to exhale, to soar, to fly.
Anywhere but here, Anywhere but there, it is a constant battle.
The spider caught in measurless oceans of space, the dove captive in its cage,
Its native wood.