Nothing is suitable. It's making me more and more frustrated, more and more depressed. I feel like I haven't had a good writing idea since Christmas and only been barely able to produce coherent things since then. I feel like something killed my brain.
I don't know what to do. I'm reading the stories that will be talked about, since that is something I must do before tomorrow evening, but that doesn't solve the problem that I still have nothing to hand in.