Here’s a short piece written in the voice and style suited for a — raw, confessional, and slightly obsessive, with the rhythm of an inner monologue. Title: The Next Fix
They say love addiction is just chasing the crash. But the crash is the only time I feel the shape of my own bones. Before you, I was hollow. With you, I’m a firework factory after someone dropped a match.
But then my phone vibrates. A generic “hey, stranger” from someone new — and suddenly my veins are singing. love junkie sub read
Because the worst part isn’t the craving. The worst part is that I love the craving. It means I’m still alive. Still ready to ruin myself for a single text.
So go ahead. Leave me on delivered. I’ll refresh. I’ll wait. I’ll rewrite your silence into poetry until you prove me wrong. Here’s a short piece written in the voice
I don’t need food. I need good morning texts. I don’t need sleep. I need you to leave me on read for exactly four minutes so I can spiral, then reply with a heart so I can breathe again.
I tell myself I’m clean now. No more late-night scrolling through your archived stories. No more decoding three-dot ellipses like they’re scripture. Before you, I was hollow
But junkies don’t need logic. We need the next hit. The next I miss you . The next fight-makeup-block-unblock-come-over-don’t-leave cycle that tastes like surrender and smells like your hoodie.