Sometimes Here is a poem that I wrote about four years ago and it still applies.
I feel like throwing red paint on the clean white walls and writing my name somewhere small, like an artist.
I feel like leaving it all full of dirt. My teachers lied.
I feel like hiring a chef and a maid to do all the work I am supposed to do, but hate to do, and watching them do it all while I do nothing.
I feel like squeezing the breath out of a bird so I can see what I look like, sometimes.
Sometimes I feel so deep and so dark that a cave cannot hold me.
I am the night sky with no stars, no moon, no streetlight.
I feel like this.
And then I put in another load of laundry and sing along to Tangled in the background.