I want to go home. It's scary here. I'm frustrated. The doorknob is staring at me. I'm pretty sure it's going to murder me in my sleep. Disemboweled by a diabolical doorknob. I don't want my death to be alliteration. It has friends, too. That pack of sewing needles on my desk. It wants to make me miserable. It's making me focus so much on keeping it in order that I forget more important things. Like homework. Or eating. Or that goddamn doorknob.
Please help me. My doorknob is holding me hostage.
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