JAXSON
It had been weeks since New Year’s Day.
Weeks since everything in me cracked open and never quite fit back the same way.
Life kept moving anyway. Morning after morning, I woke up to the same ceiling, the same dull weight pressing on my chest. Every day started with the same quiet hope that maybe today I wouldn’t remember. That maybe my head would be empty for once.
It never was.
I woke up exhausted no matter how long I lay in bed. Some nights I barely slept. Other nights I slept too much and still woke up tired. Food lost its meaning. I ate when my body complained loud enough, not because I wanted to. Whisky did nothing. Silence was worse. Noise was worse.
The panic attacks came without warning now. Not loud at first. Just tightness. Short breaths. A sudden need to leave where
