I Was High Then

I was high then—

I couldn’t face things

the way they stood in front of me,

bare and demanding.

I needed the blur,

the soft edges,

the lie that told me

tomorrow could wait.

Reality was too sharp,

asking questions I didn’t have answers for,

holding mirrors I didn’t want to look into.

So I floated above it,

called it coping,

called it freedom,

anything but fear.

I wasn’t chasing joy—

I was running from myself,

from the weight of being present

in a life that hurt to touch.

Now I see it clearer:

I wasn’t weak,

just overwhelmed.

I didn’t want to disappear—

I just didn’t know

how to stay.