It started with a pull,
just a little peace wrapped in green.
Thought I had it handled
a blunt to hush the screams.
Then came the whisper,
the ghost of the snow,
a line on the mirror,
and suddenly I’m back with blow.

I swore I left that girl behind,
the one who chased numb just to feel fine.
But the past don’t knock
it kicks in the door
when your chest feels heavy
and your knees hit the floor.

******* called soft like an old friend’s hug,
but left me empty,
jaw tight,
heart shrunk.
I laughed at the ceiling,
eyes wired, soul cracked
knew I was slipping
but didn’t claw back.

Not ‘cause I didn’t want to,
but because in that second
the fall felt safer
than standing tall in my own truth.

But look at me now.
Ashamed? Maybe.
But broken?
Hell no.

Because a relapse ain't a death sentence
it's a lesson.
A reminder
that healing ain’t clean
and strong girls bleed too
in the dark
when no one sees.

I forgive you, Jennie.
For the ****,
for the blow,
for the nights you danced with demons
just to feel like you could float.

You're not back at the start
you’re just rerouting.
Still breathing.
Still chosen.
Still worth shouting:

“I slipped,
but I rise—
and this time,
I bring fire in my eyes.” 🔥