That’s my predicament right now.
It’s my ideal kind of weather today– a winter chill, but the sun so bright that the look of it brings warmth. It’s really nice. But instead of being outside, I’m inside feeling stuffy. The table in which I work at is buried beneath heaps of scattered paper, pens without pen caps, undistinguishable objects, and inside I feel like I have a cold. I’m stuffed in a stuffy house and trapped within a mentally congested body. I want to leave and do productive and fun things. But I’m stuck between here and there, a pane of an anxious, sad, and unmotivated mentality separating us.
I illustrated what it kind of feels like:
What do you do when you’re home bound, and the barrier is your mind?