clean and cut open

sober now, and every second screams louder than the last. the silence i begged for now drips like acid through my spine. when i was high, the world floated — hazy, dull-edged, a soft lie i could breathe in. without choking on memory. without shaking from truth. but now i wake up to light too sharp for eyes that have seen too much, and sleep with shadows that whisper every name i try to forget. they say this is healing. they say pain is proof i'm alive. but if this is life — raw, bleeding, a wound i carry like a badge — then maybe i liked dying better. i miss the numbness. i miss the nothing. it was kinder than this endless parade of remembering everything i ever did just to feel okay.