I was twenty-two. I didn't know I was an addict yet.
For three months, I floated.
Real love — the kind I'm still not sure I believe in — probably feels boring sometimes. Safe. It probably doesn't make you check your phone every three minutes. It probably doesn't require you to perform, to shrink, to beg. love junkie free read
The third month, something shifted. I woke up one morning and the first thought wasn't who could love me? It was what do I want for breakfast? I was twenty-two
I was twenty-two. I didn't know I was an addict yet.
For three months, I floated.
Real love — the kind I'm still not sure I believe in — probably feels boring sometimes. Safe. It probably doesn't make you check your phone every three minutes. It probably doesn't require you to perform, to shrink, to beg.
The third month, something shifted. I woke up one morning and the first thought wasn't who could love me? It was what do I want for breakfast?