Why Me?

I walked the same streets. Swallowed the same poison. Chased relief the same desperate way hands shaking, heart bargaining, soul tired of feeling everything. I know the lie. I know how sweet it sounds at first. How it promises rest, then quietly starts digging your grave while telling you you’re fine. I watched it take them one by one people who laughed like me, hurt like me, wanted out just as badly. And somehow…I lived. That’s the part that hurts the most. Because I didn’t love life more than they did. I wasn’t stronger every day. I didn’t always choose right. Some nights I should’ve been the next name. Some mornings I woke up surprised I still had a pulse. So why me? Why did my lungs keep working when theirs stopped? Why did the door crack open just enough for me while it sealed shut on them? People call it strength. .People call it purpose. But they don’t see the guilt that sits in my chest like a second heart beating louder every time I remember someone who didn’t make it out. I carry them with me. Every relapse I resisted. Every craving that screamed their names. Every moment I thought, If I go back, I’ll be joining them. Sometimes survival feels like betrayal. Like I stole something that was meant to be shared. Like breathing is an apology I never get to finish. I don’t believe they were weak. I believe the war was unfair. I believe addiction doesn’t measure worth it measures pain. And God, there was so much pain. If I’m still here for a reason, let it be this, to say their names out loud. To remind the world they weren’t statistics My father, Jen MottaGuedes, Katie Flannery, Randall Godfrey, EJ Reid, and so so many more they were laughter, loyalty, love. They were my people. And if I ever doubt why I survived, let it be answered not with guilt, but with remembrance. Let my life be proof that making it out is possible even if it doesn’t come in time for everyone. I didn’t leave them behind. They walk with me. Every sober breath. Every hard-earned sunrise. And when the question comes back Why me? I’ll answer the only way I can: So I could tell the truth. So I could carry the light. So their stories didn’t end in silence