You.

You fight to stay awake even when your body begs for rest.

The day has already wrung you dry,

But you

You keep your eyes open,

afraid of losing time

afraid of losing YOUR time.

Blue light burns your eyes.

The ceiling fan hums like a clock.

You scroll, and scroll, and scroll,

swearing you’re searching for something

but finding only the echo of your own self-loathing.

You call it freedom,

but it’s just another cage:

a slow self-destruction you cradle like a blanket

because pain feels like home,

and shame feels like home,

and you have lived here so long you’ve memorised every crack in the walls.

Pause.

Breathe.

Look up.

There’s a mirror waiting in the dark.

In it, someone who matters is staring back at you.

That’s

All the proof you need…..