“Do you want me to stay?” As soon as it leaves my mouth, I know I’ve said the wrong thing. “Don’t care, can if you want to.” He turns back to what he was doing, the conversation over. I am not wanted. I’m a warm body with laughably low self esteem. If I stay, I will briefly get what I want, the dopamine rush bubbling over, making me fall over myself the next time and the time after that. It’s better if I just go, let things fizzle out, but there is a desperate creature inside of me.
felt that a lil too hard
Ana Marcel liked this
