Callum - 18 Years Old
Waking up feels like clawing my way out of a grave. My body is leaden, pinned to the sagging mattress by the weight of something I can’t name. The air reeks of sweat, stale smoke, and something sour—vomit maybe, or the leftovers of another night wasted in this filthy room. Everything around me is a distorted blur, like looking through cracked glass. The dim light from the cracked blinds barely cuts through the haze, illuminating the chaos I’ve surrounded myself with—empty bottles, burned foil, crumpled syringes, and piles of clothes that haven’t seen a wash in weeks.
This time, it’s different. I can feel it in my bones, in the way my heart races and my skin crawls as if there are a thousand invisible insects burrowing under my flesh. I’ve woken up after bad trips be
