by Lunna Raven
Will I ever learn? I’m disgusted at myself with what just happened. We all have our weak spots, and mine is sex, cocaine and cutting seem so much safer now. Feeling wanted is my drug, but with like any of them, the escape and pleasure ends. Everything does.
My insides are still raw, not sure if it’s because of not having had sex with a man for almost a year, or an allergic reaction to latex. He’s asleep next to me. I look at him: his blonde hair, freckles and tattoos, his perfect body… I feel nothing, that was just another physical connection. He’s careless and drunk, I’m bored and want to leave, but I can’t, so I turn my back on him and start writing.