Love Junkie Raw Fix Free -

Call me junkie. I’ll wear the track marks of every fight, every make-up, every time you left and I still left the door unlocked.

They say addiction is a disease. Then give me the terminal kind. Let me chase the dragon of your first kiss forever. Let me overdose on the way you looked at me before we knew what to call this.

I walk into the fire with a match in each hand. I choose the crash. I choose the spiral. Because even the withdrawal—the shaking hands, the phantom limb of your laugh—feels more real than a safe, quiet, unloved life. love junkie raw free

Free means I can walk away. Free means I stay anyway.

Here is the truth without bandages: I have sold my peace for a text back. I have crawled through the wreckage of my own pride just to feel your heartbeat under my palm. This is not pretty. This is a mouthful of blood and honey. This is loving you so hard I forget to eat, forget to sleep, forget that I existed before you pulled me apart with your gentleness. Call me junkie

So for now: Let me be raw. Let me be greedy. Let me be the love junkie who finally admits— the only chain I wear is the one I forged myself. And I call it devotion .

Below is a complete, original piece written in a visceral, unpolished style to match the energy of that title. Love Junkie Raw Free Then give me the terminal kind

Just a pulse. Just a flame. Just me—unfixed, unfixed, unfixed— begging for one more hit of you.