Love Junkie [upd] Free Read 🆒

Three months alone. No dating apps. No "casual" drinks that turned into sleepovers. No staring at my phone at 2 a.m., willing a name to appear.

I was twenty-two. I didn't know I was an addict yet.

Love junkies don't shoot up in alleys. We do it in candlelit bedrooms and coffee shop corners. We do it with poetry and promises and the way we tilt our heads when someone says I'm not ready for a relationship . We nod and say that's okay while inside we're already calculating how to make them ready. love junkie free read

That was the second hit. Better than the first, because I'd almost lost it.

The first month, I vibrated out of my skin. I texted my ex. Twice. I cried in a Target parking lot because a stranger held the door for me and it felt like tenderness. Three months alone

The second month, the quiet got so loud I couldn't sleep.

Then he pulled back. Just an inch. A text left on read. A cancelled plan. And my veins went cold. No staring at my phone at 2 a

Each time, the same arc. Euphoria. Desperation. The sick, sweet ache of proving myself worthy.