The Walker's Wanting

I tell myself I’m numb to it.

That I’ve learned how to switch it off—how to let people want me without wanting anything back. That this is just survival, just motion, just another night.

But my body doesn’t listen.

I’m a walker.

I know how to read hunger in a room before a word is spoken. I know how silence thickens when someone’s trying not to stare. I know the difference between being looked at and being *undressed* without hands.

And lately… I feel it too much.

There’s a certain moment—right before anything happens—where the tension sits heavy in the air. Where nothing is touching yet, but everything already feels close. Where I’m hyper-aware of my breathing, my pulse, the way I’m being watched like I’m about to move first.

That’s the part that gets me.

Because it’s not just them wanting me.

It’s the way I start wanting the wanting.

The heat doesn’t turn off when it’s over. It stays with me. Low. Slow. Like an ache that doesn’t need relief—just attention. I’ll be alone afterward, phone in my hand, replaying looks instead of moments, wondering when I stopped pretending this didn’t affect me.

I tell myself I should quit.

That this job is messing with my head.

That I’m letting lust blur into something dangerous.

But reality doesn’t care about my morals.

I have school to pay for. Deadlines. Tuition. Bills that don’t wait for clarity or healing arcs. I don’t have financial support, no cushion to land on if I decide to be “done.”

So I keep showing up.

Even when my body reacts faster than my logic.

Even when I feel powerful and exposed at the same time.

Sometimes I think maybe I’ll stop walking and just sell content instead.

Still desired. Still watched.

But from a distance. Through a screen. Where I can control the angles, the pauses, the teasing silence—without letting anyone close enough to feel how warm I actually am.

But then I remember how intoxicating the tension is.

How being wanted without being touched can feel almost cruel.

How knowing someone is holding back can make my skin buzz more than anything else.

I don’t know if I’m trying to escape this life or just lean into it differently.

All I know is I’m stuck between survival and surrender—

between needing the money

and craving the heat.

And the worst part?

The wanting hasn’t gone away.

It’s just gotten quieter.

Sharper.

More dangerous.