winning
I feel the flare now of winning, even though my body is feeling the hits like never before. I'm grinning, breathing hard, down on the ground in exhaustion and hurt, angry and so fucking glad to be alive, even with what my life is. Fuck, maybe it's sweeter because of what my life is. Because I really wasn't supposed to make it. I wasn't supposed to take those hits and find my way back to lucidity. But I did. I was broken, but my bones knit themselves back together. I'm still bruised. Depleted. Yet I'm more fucking here than I've ever been. Those fuckers didn't win.