After Eli, there was Marcus, who loved me for six perfect weeks before he loved his ex more. Then Jules, who said I was "intense" and stopped calling. Then the girl whose name I won't even write down, because admitting I still remember it feels like shame.
For me, it was his laugh. Low, rough, like stones tumbling in a river. I caught it across a crowded bar, and something in my chest went pop — a tiny, beautiful explosion. love junkie free read
The second month, the quiet got so loud I couldn't sleep. After Eli, there was Marcus, who loved me
The third month, something shifted. I woke up one morning and the first thought wasn't who could love me? It was what do I want for breakfast? For me, it was his laugh
We are not victims. That's the worst part.