Everything bottled up. So many frustrations all in one. 

"Give it up", they say. So should I get the job done?

Trapped in a dorm room.. more like a jail cell.

I am here. But what is my purpose? 

What is my motivation?

Lost. With loads of work to do. Paper and a runny ink pen.

Blue... that's my favorite color.

I am here, but insead of calculating numbers my emotions begin to run. 

Sort of like the pen. I am here. 

No longer frustrated. Feeling free at last. 

I know my purpose. Found motivation.

Just a ink pen, paper, and I.

I... I am still here.