I am in immense pain. — No, I can't start it like that. — I am in immense pain, but I am getting better.

I shouldn't lie.

I'm dying here. — The truth. — I'm dying in this room. I don't know how I got here and I don't know how to get out. It's moving. The room is moving, I can feel it, and it doesn't stop. I want to make this into a deep metaphor, but I'm not in the mood. — Okay, the room is like life. It's constantly moving, and it doesn't stop.

I cannot get out of this room no matter how hard I try. — Don't take this the wrong way — I do not want to die.

Let's start back at the beginning...

I am in immense emotional pain, and I am not getting better. I have found myself trapped in this doorless and windowless room for days with no escape. I have been forced to listen to myself think. I have been forced to come to peace with my thoughts.

I have been forced to accept that crazy thought that I've always had — that illogical one that I usually brush off with no problem.

It is a problem now, and the problem is: I'm not living.

Let me explain, I am alive but I am not living. I've always known this. I'm not happy with who I am, and I don't have the guts to do anything about it, and that's not living. I want to jump off of a bridge (into water, of course) and feel the adrenaline rush through my veins.

Let me simplify this: I am not happy. I am trapped in this fucking room. I can't get out.

And let's start back at the beginning again...

I am in immense emotional pain. I can get better. I want to get better. I am going to get better. I am going to get out of this room.