We're supposed to be six feet apart so why are you reaching out to me? You were preaching so loud about how close the end is that I'm surprised you even heard me crying. My lungs hurt from.breathing the same air as you, and my muscles are spasming because there's nothing left to do. All the tools my young brain uses to escape the world are all sneezing in my face at once. I want to punch the meteorologist for being the good part of the news. I want to break the television because I am unaccustomed to it disappointing me, yet anytime I turn it on, it reminds me why it had sat untouched for so long. Anyone I followed before this annoys me. My music is taunting, my feelings are drowning in political "reassurance", and I would rather cause a reenactment of the smallpox endemic than spend one more second social distancing. I was not built to be trapped in anything aside from my mind and now my haven is rotting. I'm crying because my neurons are dying faster than any statistic that scrolls on my screen. My eyes are sore. I am bored. When will something else come on?