Have you ever come across one of those moments where everything seems . . .perfect?
You're listening to a new album, you're watching a great show, or reading a good book.
Money in your pocket.
It's a bright day, with a slight breeze.
The plants are more green than yesterday.
The warm atmosphere has a cool filter over everything.

It just feels like creativity is going to rip every seam that holds your limbs together.
Disembodied by inspiration.
But you sit there and think.
You think for too long.

Then you realize all the things that are still missing.
. . . still incomplete.
No girlfriend.
Piles of school work.
Unfilled college applications.
Half-assed sketches and ideas.

The sense of completeness turns into emptiness.
Every door of oppurotunity seems to close.
Now you're locked out in the cold.
Your pockets are empty.
Day turns to dark night, the winds is biting hard.
Everything is monochrome.
Your body shrinks, all of those creative juices spill out of every orifice wasted and unused.
Held together by nothing.

You feel like shit.