My sexual Addiction
And then he was gone, swallowed by the dark street.
Sleep didn’t come that night. Or the night after.
By the third, my body hummed with exhaustion, a thin, fragile thing that made everything feel like it was happening from the bottom of a well. My brain looped the same images: the club, Julian’s smirk, Lane’s steady gaze, the grainy photo.
I walked for hours without direction, ending up in neighborhoods I wouldn’t have gone to sober. Dark alleys. Empty streets. I felt invincible in a way I knew was dangerous, like if something happened, at least it would mean something.