RAVE
After that messed-up night, my phone took the brunt of my anger and ended up in pieces. In a twisted way, it felt like a blessing—it might just keep me from reaching out to Stan, even though every fiber of me wanted to. But let me tell you, countless nights after that, I’d lie awake, staring at the ceiling, imagining his touch, replaying how he used to set me on fire, reigniting that craving. Yeah, I even resorted to j*********f while imagining Stan. It’s the only way I can get some semblance of release, even though it’s like a pale imitation of what it used to be. I tried diving back into the scene, hitting up bars, flirting with both guys and gals. But every time things started heating up, Stan’s face would pop into my mind like an uninvited guest.
What’s even worse? Met, my usual
