Loneliness is a siren call.
It rings through my chest, and my body shakes like a struck bell.
The ringing in my head is louder than my logic.
I am standing at the edge of the cliff aching to jump.
I circle my apartment like a shark.
Scenting blood.
Restless.
Hungry.
Circling the ache,
Looking for a crack I can fall through.
The scent- almost palpable.
The electricity. The heat. The danger.
I just want to be cracked open, noticed, devoured.
I need it.
Now.
The 3-Breath Rule (Emergency Brake):
- Inhale.
Locate the hunger—body or heart?
(I can’t tell. My whole body is screaming) - Exhale.
Ask: Will this leave me proud or regretful?
(Spoiler: It will ruin me. I still want it. I can’t…. No….) - Inhale again.
Choose you.
I might be a dumb whore, but I am not a dumb bitch.
I see exactly what this is.
A trap disguised as intimacy.
I don’t want him.
I just want to be wanted.
Still…God help me.
I want to dive in.
Not for love. Not even for pleasure.
I want to feel alive.
The rush before the crash.
The moment before the regret.
But I’m stubborn.
And sometimes, that saves me.
He’s just the one who leaves me high for a moment
and hollow for days.
But here’s the thing:
Through the sea mist, I remember:
I am the siren
and I won't be your wreck.
I don’t crash on rocks.
I pull ships under.
I decide to call him to the water.
It’s his turn to drown.
Unless…