Is this my diary?

Now, when I say I don’t want to be here, I mean
Here

When I say I don’t know the way out, I’m asking for
Help
Admitting there is a way, I just don’t know it
yet

When I’m spinning in circles I’m searching for a
door,
a ladder,
a window or a
whirlwind to catch me upwards

When I imagine my
escape
I picture friends in all
black
repelling down in the morning

My greatest adventures have been avoiding
the mortal peril
of moral anguish