Frustrated

I throw it to the floor with a frustrated sigh, my frustration boils inside me untill i feel as if I am about to explode. I cannot take this anymore. I throw whatever my hands can touch. Because my hands cannot create like they used to. The curves are all wrong. The lines just cant be straight. Maybe it is my fault as i am a perfectionist. Blood rips out of my fingers as I tear at the walls in a rage. The paint coming off as I scratch my nails down it. Screaming as I go. I flop onto my bed. Bury my face into my cool pillow, and scream. I slam the pillow against the wall and stalk towards the sktchbook I had earlier slammed to the cool blue floorboards. I pick it up and with pure frustration, I spill everything in my mind onto the pages.
Surprise.
Utter Perfection.