Ridiculously Confined

I can't do this. I can't take this. I can't spend one more minute in that bed or reading. I can't go to school tomorrow and I can't pretend that I know how to play the piano and I can't bear my oblivious father saying "Happy New Year," because doesn't he get that this is still yesterday? Just because we all celebrate doesn't mean there is a barrier. No, all of last year's problems carry over. I am so very, very tired. I am tired of watching and tired of wanting and tired of trying to find windows out of this ridiculously confined world. It's the same world down the street, or five miles away, or ten. Trees aren't enough. Beauty, no substance. Well, beauty is overrated. I gave my ramblings the title of Incredible Adventures, very ironically. There are no adventures here, save for the ones inside my head. And this morning, I woke up at seven and walked outside. Drizzle, dreary. January is here. Whose idea was it to make a month like this the result of a holiday-of-hope? It doesn't matter if I walk outside early in the morning. The world is shut. Save for this--sitting here in my pajamas writing about feelings I can barely feel because they hurt to much to let in, and hoping that maybe someone will read them. And tomorrow I will go to school. And the day after that I will have a piano lesson. And then? On and on.