I used to be living once.
My life was full of spontaneity and endless thrills.
We would close our eyes and see colors and magic and when we opened them we saw hell.
We chased away the demons with whiskey neat and as our throats burned we knew we had swallowed the hell fire away.
But the demons kept coming, and we ran out of the rainbows we put on our tongues to protect us.
Our blood was clean but our minds were cleaner, the first breath of sobriety was alarming.
We all wandered off down our own paths with violently bloodshot eyes and bruised veins.
It was then that we realized that there was a difference between being alive and living.
We had ignored the hell that awaited behind our shut eyes for so long, that the real world practically ceased to exist.
The colors and magic had engulfed us for years, and they were hardly ready to let us go.
We were no longer a part of society, it was as if we had simply disappeared.