Damien used to think rock bottom was a one-time event.
A single, life-altering crash that would finally wake him up.
He would soon painfully realize there were levels to this shit.
And he was about to dig himself even deeper.
It was 2:37 AM. He sat in his car outside her building, gripping the steering wheel so hard his fingers ached.
He told himself he wasn’t going up.
He was… sitting here.
Just breathing.
Just thinking.
Yet somehow, his hands had already moved. His phone was unlocked. Her message was open.
"Heyyy."
Five fucking letters.
That’s all it took.
And just like that, he was right back where he swore he’d never be. Again.
He knew exactly how this would play out.
He would knock.
She would smirk.
He would pretend he didn’t hate himself for being here.
It would feel good—for a little while.
Until she got bored and decided she didn’t need him again.
And then he’d be right back in his car, gripping the wheel, swearing the last time was the last time.
Every time was always the last time.
Lost in thought, he didn’t realize his feet had already carried him to her door.
"Fuck!" He exhaled under his breath.
He knocked.
After what felt like an eternity, the door cracked open.
She leaned against the frame, gave him that lazy, knowing look, and then smirked.
“Knew you’d be back.”
And just like that, it was over.
He knew.
He was about to do it again.
Damien’s problem wasn’t just her.
It was the habit that kept dragging him back.
The same one that’s kept you stuck.
Hugging the corpse of a relationship and wondering why it won’t come back to life.
Sitting in the fire instead of running for the exit.
Convincing yourself you need “clarity” instead of making a fucking decision.
Because let’s be honest, you don’t go back because you believe they’ve changed.
You go back because some fucked-up part of you still craves the high.
The rush of being chosen.
The illusion of being special.
The excuse to believe this time will be different.
And until you break that, nothing fucking changes.
Damien told himself this was the last time.
But deep down, he knew.
The next time his toxic ex called, he’d pick up.
Just like the last time.
Just like you do.
So tell me... what’s the story you keep telling yourself?
Who or what do you keep running back to, even though you know it’s wrecking you?
You already know you should let go.
So why haven’t you?
Hit reply and say it.
Name the thing that has its hooks in you—because until you do, it’s gonna own you.