I’ve walked the edges of darkness,
felt the burn of every high
and the crash of every fall.
I’ve begged for escape
from demons I thought I could outrun,
only to find myself deeper
than I ever imagined.
The cravings whisper like old friends,
soft, tempting, familiar,
but I’ve learned to hear them
and keep walking anyway.
Every step forward feels heavy,
but every step is proof
that I am stronger than the urge
that once held me hostage.
People judge me for the scars they can’t see,
for the nights I screamed alone,
for the times I hit rock bottom
and didn’t have the strength to rise… yet.
But here I am.
Still standing.
Still breathing.
Still choosing life when the easier path would be surrender.
Recovery isn’t a straight line—
it’s sweat, it’s tears, it’s rage,
it’s hope screaming louder than fear.
It’s learning to love yourself
even when the world whispers that you’re broken.
And every day I wake, I win.
Every day I resist, I reclaim.
Every day sober is a battle,
every day free is a victory.
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