Five years of serving coffee to idiots just to keep the lights on. Five years of my brain rotting while I calculated how much another IV bag would cost. Now the house is quiet. Paid off. And I'm sitting here with my hand down my shorts, fingers circling my clit, realizing I have no fucking clue what I actually want.

My cock is hard just thinking about using my degree for something more than balancing a checkbook. But goddamn, I'm tired of being responsible. I want someone to pin me against a wall and stop me from thinking for five fucking minutes. Or maybe I want to be the one doing the pinning.

It's weird having freedom after so long. My cunt is dripping thinking about all the years I missed out on. All the nights I could've been getting railed instead of counting pills. I don't even know what I'm into anymore. Just that I need something real. Something that makes me feel something other than this fucking empty relief.

Anyone else ever feel like you wasted your twenties being a goddamn martyr?