Afterglow.

After we fuck, I can't wait until he leaves so I can get his smell off me. My body likes the way it feels - the afterglow might be there, even. I just can't take it in my head. He doesn't smell right, doesn't feel right, doesn't do anything for me except make me nauseous.

I fuck because it reminds me I'm human. Because it's the one way I can still hurt myself without blood. Because it's an addiction to pain inside that I won't give up. But no one hurts the right way. They aren't violent the right way.

It's all make believe, let's pretend. No one actually knows what to do.

They don't get that there might be something there.

Then again, maybe they get off fucking a girl who just lays there, eyes closed and silent. There are a lot of necrophiliacs around campus, then.

I miss you.