We tell our stories differently, don't we, you and I?
I wake abruptly, my breath jagged and heart racing, my mouth stale, and I know immediately that's it. I'm awake. The more I want to be oblivious, the less I can be. Life and light will not let me be.
I want to drag knives over my skin, just to feel something other than shame, but I'm not even brave enough for that.