Shadows and Secret Desires

I can't keep this bottled up anymore; it's eating at me every damn day. I jerk off to images of girls who are way too young, and it's this twisted thrill that hooks me like nothing else. The guilt crashes over me in waves, but in the moment, it's pure, raw electricity pulsing through my veins. I scroll through stuff I know I shouldn't, my heart pounding, breath quickening, as I imagine scenarios that are so wrong they make my skin burn with shame and excitement all at once. It's like an itch I can't scratch away, this dark corner of my mind where fantasies twist into something addictive, something that leaves me sweating and breathless in the dead of night. I try to fight it, tell myself to stop, but the pull is too strong; it's a secret fire that flares up when I'm alone, making me feel alive in ways that terrify me. I've lost count of the times I've sworn it off, only to slip back into that haze, my hand moving on autopilot while my thoughts race to places they shouldn't go. It's not about love or connection; it's pure, unfiltered lust wrapped in taboo, and I hate how good it feels even as it tears me apart. Maybe confessing this will help, or maybe it'll just make the shadows deeper, but damn, it's real, and it's mine.