Page 59 of The Don's Virgin Obsession
I grabbed my blunt off the counter out of habit, looked at it, then threw it back down. I didn’t even want to smoke anymore. Didn’t want liquor either. I just wanted the noise in my head to shut the fuck up.
Milan always knew how to do that.
Get under my skin and leave fingerprints on my mood after she was gone.
I walked to my room, changed into black sweats, threw on a hoodie, grabbed my 10-speed bike, and headed downstairs. I stopped and talked to my security. Told them to never let Milan up again.
Ten minutes later, I was riding through L.A. with my Beats headphones loud as fuck in my ears, playing“Dog’s Gonna Get Cha”by Snoop Dogg.
The wind hit hard against my face while I weaved through traffic like I had no sense.
Cars honking.
People yelling.
One nigga rolled his window down, calling me crazy while I cut across traffic.
I ain’t even look back.
The music blasted louder while my legs burned, pushing faster down the street. This was the only thing that usually calmed my mind besides weed and women.
Movement.
I stayed moving because sitting still for too long always became mentally dangerous for me.
That’s why I understood exactly what Milan was trying to do tonight.
She came over to weaken me.
Bring up old versions of myself. Old habits. Old failures.
My cocaine habit started five years ago, and ended two years ago, but people always made addiction sound simple when it wasn’t.
I wasn’t some strung-out junkie scratching my neck in alleys. I was functioning. Making millions. Getting degrees. Running businesses. Hitting the gym. Smiling in niggas faces while secretly doing lines in luxury bathrooms before meetings because I hadn’t slept in two days.
Success became an addiction before I even realized it.
Money did too.
Every time I hit another goal, the pressure got worse instead of better.
Another building.
Another investment.
Another accomplishment.
Another expectation.
The coke made me feel sharp back then. Untouchable. Like my mind could finally keep up with everything I was carrying.
Until one night it didn’t.
I still remember sitting in my office after finishing my last degree, staring at my reflection in the window at damn near three in the morning. Eyes red. Jaw flexing. Nose burning.
Still not happy.
Still not peaceful.
