Sadness of a Closed Door.

I get such headaches lately. Only they're not really headaches... it's sort of this pounding, nauseous feeling, like how your head feels when you get motion-sickness. But I'm not sick from motion, because I'm not moving. Maybe it's stable-sickness, or whatever the opposite of motion is. Immobility-sickness. There you go. I'm sick from not going anywhere, and of not having anywhere to go. I lock myself up here in my room in the hopes that it'll make me study or work or do any of the things I should be doing to improve myself or help myself or help other people. But I end up on facebook, or playing music, or reading sad books, or writing sad stories. I realized last night that all I seem to be able to write are sad stories. Odd, because I'm not really a sad person. Well, sometimes. Actually, I don't even know if "sometimes" covers it - but I also don't know that you can say you're one type of person or another for sure, all the time. I don't think that anybody would fit any kind of category 100% of the time. I do know that it's bad for me to be in my head this much, though. The worst part is that I've gotten comfortable here, and the thought of getting out of my head is overwhelming. I've started wearing my old glasses again, in the hopes that they will help me. I don't think that they do, but they give me some kind of action to take, and that helps. I'm so tired. I sit here with my head aching, telling myself that if I go somewhere, the sickness will go away. Tomorrow, I tell myself. I'll go tomorrow.