Fuck. It’s like a warning light, flashing in your head. Blinking on and off politely, just

Fuck. It’s like a warning light, flashing in your head. Blinking on and off politely, just letting you know that yes, you’re in trouble, and no, it’s not really all that bad.  Fuck. Maybe you wanted to be in trouble. Maybe that’s why you’re here, sore and exhausted, each limb a different shade of heavy, each one struggling to deal with consciousness just as you shrug it off like a bad dream.  Fuck. You did it. You went through with it and now you’re on the other side, remnants of vanilla sticking to you, pods in your hair, strewn on the floor. Teased him home, and now you’re left with the shattered remnants of your former life. You’ve slipped, fallen over, and when you picked yourself up you weren’t the same girl.  Fuck. Swagger in your walk, but you haven’t tried those shaky legs just yet. Confidence mixed with that drained brand of catharsis that just made you want to sleep. But you have slept, and only on waking can you properly understand. That you’re not her any more. Only on waking can you properly smile and say that one single word. Fuck. Yes. -- source link
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