"How are you?" Arthur asked, giving me an intense stare.

"I'm..."

Sixty-three words.

I could think of sixty-three words off the top of my head to fill that space.

I'm broken.

I'm sad.

I'm lonely.

I'm hurt.

I'm upset.

I'm alone.

I'm depressed.

I'm suicidal.

I'm angry.

I'm hateful.

I'm breaking down.

I'm screaming.

I'm dead.

I'm empty.

I'm nothing.

I'm crying.

I'm shouting.

I'm giving up.

I'm hiding.

I'm wearing a mask.

I'm horrible.

I'm down.

I'm hollow.

I'm worthless.

I'm misunderstood.

I'm incapable.

I'm invisible.

I'm pessimistic.

I'm distrustful.

I'm tearful.

I'm offended.

I'm aching.

I'm wronged.

I'm shaky.

I'm timid.

I'm wary.

I'm victimized.

I'm tortured.

I'm pained.

I'm lifeless.

I'm cold.

I'm dull.

I'm nervous.

I'm scared.

I'm suspicious.

I'm alienated.

I'm numb.

I'm stressed.

I'm bruised.

I"m Merlin.

"...fine."