You keep showing up.
Uninvited.
Unrelenting.
Dragging my old pain like chains across my chest.
You whisper every mistake, every moment I wasn’t enough,
as if I haven’t already bled for them.

I have survived you.
Over and over.
Even when I didn’t want to.
Even when I thought I wouldn’t.

You don’t own me anymore.
Not my thoughts, not my sleep, not the way I breathe.

I have cracked open, fallen apart,
but I am still here.
Even numb, even raw, I’m still here.

And if all I can do today is sit
until I remember how to feel again,
then that is enough.

You are the past.
I’m still choosing the present.
I’m still choosing to push through.
Even when it hurts.

Especially when it hurts.