"Your mind is like a cage.
And you're trapped in it. You will never escape this cage so you better start making it a comfy cozy place or you're doomed.
My cage is a cabin built by Dick Proenneke next to a mountain lake, it's dusk and the crickets are starting to sing, I'm in a hammock with a stiff drink and not a care in the world. I'm almost fully dry but I decide to take one more dip before I cook supper, fresh caught trout and my own home grown greens and potatoes. My cabin is only accessible via float plane, but I have a secure fence and gaurded perimeter as well. I wake in the morning refreshed and ready to take on the day, up early enough to see my breath fog out in front of me in the morning light. Early bird gets the worm.
Your cage is that house from Fight Club. A derelict house in an abandoned industrial district, a rotting rust filled pile of damp plaster and decaying soggy wood. It's 2 am, you can't sleep once again, it's storming outside and water drips through the ruined ceiling on to you and your crude cot. Entire floors collapsed and laid to waste, shattered windows pasted over crudely with newspaper like a bandaid over a bloody gash. The front door lock has no purpose anymore as it was kicked in long ago, so degenerates and squatters roam in and out often and freely, there is no sense of security. When it rains you have to turn off the power because shit will go haywire when it really starts coming down like cats and dogs, and the whole house sits dark and creaking and settling in the downpour, musty mildew filling your nostrils.
You need to escape. You need to destroy that miserable stinking pile of decay you call your mind, and come join me on king shit island.
There are steps you can take, but you already know what they are, ask around here if you don't. Stop laying on that lumpy mattress in the dark and come pull up a hammock with me brother, I'll reel in another fish for ya."