the raw, unvarnished truth is sometimes i just want to scream at the sheer audacity of that old part of me that still tries to make a goddamn grab for control. a hot, metallic taste floods my mouth when i feel that familiar tremor, that old, almost imperceptible surge that still wants to run, to push, to prove. after everything. after crawling back from the absolute bottom, after all the painstaking, quiet work it took to just stand upright again, that insidious whisper still tries to pull me back to the edge. and the rage of it, the pure, undiluted rage that i even have to waste a single ounce of energy fighting it. what a fucking insult.