Daily Journal-- 2/16/11

I wake up and try to take a deep breath, but the deeper the breath the more severe the pain. The ground is hard beneath my back, and I feel a dull pain in my arm. I.V. tubes run through the veins right beneath my bicep, and above my forearm. I have no reccollection of how I got here, so naturally I begin perspirating. I feel my lungs thicken, as a result of my need for additional oxygen. My heart is pounding, and my eyes become dialated. The pupils inside of them become so constricted that the lens begins fogging, followed by a spurt of relative clarity. There's not much to see anyways, though. I'm in the most dull room I have ever seen. Four, white-colored walls, with no pictures, drawings, or even windows to admire. I see a bed atop some sort of cart, directly adjacent to where I lay on the floor. To be honest, I don't know which resting place seems more comfortable. Judging by the severe stiffness in my back, I imagine I have been laying on the ground for quite a while. This makes me wonder, how come nobody has come to save me yet? Hasn't anybody come through a door and realized that there is someone laying on the ground, in obvious pain. I look around at the room again, and again. My eyes dart from corner to corner, trying to grasp my reality. The more times I look around at the room, the more I become fearful. My claustrophobia evades any prior conception that this place was temporary. I am now drenched in sweat, as I admire the hideous beauty of the place I reside. Nobody came through the door to save me because there is no door. So, how the hell did I get in here.