Hunger

The cost of getting what I wanted

the wreckage

Excruciating. This feeling.

First, it felt like I just had a shot of heroin. Not that I would know. I just imagine.

Then, cold turkey.

I had to drag myself out of bed and out of my rented studio apartment. I opened the door and looked over the horizon that used to make my heart sing and used to put a smile on my face. The saltiness of the air did nothing to me. The bright sun bothered me.

I pulled myself forward on the sea promenade.

Lonely. Embarrassed. Disgusted with myself. I felt everything at once.

Couples were sitting hand-in-hand. It could have been me. Yet, I was here alone, looking for more freedom, more wildness. And D was back home alone.

Everywhere I looked, I saw myself with her. I missed her. Was it her body or her soul or both? Her constant attention for me? Her need for me to love her back?

Now, I had neither.

At nights, I got needy. I wanted touch, connection, belonging. Everything.

That one wild night with H. We were like animals. A night of fire.

She opened up a hunger in me. And now I was looking at all the women as fresh meat.

One day, I’m entangled with the soul of a beautiful human. The next, I’ve lost touch with all morality. I can only think of carnal pleasures.

Sex is a drug. I’m an addict. This is my hangover.