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.
Yes, I’ve blocked you. Three times. Yes, I unblocked you at 2 a.m. to see if your Spotify playlist changed. Yes, I know that’s insane.
Hi. Hello. Yes. Tell me I’m pretty. Tell me you thought about me yesterday. Tell me you almost called. love junkie sub read
But then my phone vibrates. A generic “hey, stranger” from someone new — and suddenly my veins are singing.
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. They say love addiction is just chasing the crash
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.
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 With you, I’m a firework factory after someone
One heart react, and I’m yours again.