I feel like a fish trapped in a glass bowl. I think this feeling used to be enjoyable when I was a child, and I could wander around making up stories for every little corner of the house and spend hours daydreaming.
But now I only wander the house when I'm frightfully bored and lonely, and spiralling downwards into a pool of overwhelming thoughts.
Also, I can't write poems. It feels like trying to violently, passionately, energetically break the glass of the bowl, but instead only gently tapping on the glass and then falling backwards into the ground.