🌙 Nothing Feels Right

It’s the middle of the night,
and nothing feels right.
I’m awake. I’m asleep.
I’m cold—then sweating through the sheets.

The body can’t decide which crisis to lead with.
The mind keeps score.
The stomach’s staging a riot.
And somewhere deep inside,
the question whispers again:

“The poison is poisoning… but is it winning?”

I shift, stretch, ache, repeat.
Get up, sit down, open the laptop,
search for answers I already know aren’t there.
The clock blinks 3:17 a.m.—mocking me in neon red.

Middle of the night.
Middle of the cycle.
Middle of the fight.

The poison does what it does.
And I do what I do—
stay, breathe, endure,
and keep asking the question,
even when I already know the answer.

Because I’m still here.
Still fighting. Still standing.
Still winning.