A Lightbulb In A Dark Room

I have little work, and no motivation. This must be the norm of others, but not on a Sunday night, the night before school. I feel I have an enemy out there working my strings, making today impossible in my life to cope. I'm being stubborn against myself as it planned. Theres music, but it's the music I listened to when I was sick. Sick in the machine, sick in the core. Music brings up more than just chunks. It brings waves. Is this why I've hardly been eating all weekend? For clear bile? It doesn't burn. I almost want to convulse. I want to jerk in which ever direction. I feel out of order myself, sick. Sick in the machine. Sick in the core.