Why isn't there porn for girls for boys ???

Mia, that was I. 21. Art, s*x, sleep. It was all that happened in my life.

At night, I hooked up with guys. The city was full of them. Jake was last night's choice. Dark eyes, easy smile. We laughed, flirted, then back to my place. Passionate but fleeting.

Morning came. He left. I stared at the ceiling. The emptiness crept back. It always did.

Art school kept me busy. Some days, painting felt profound. Other days, pointless. My studio was my sanctuary. The light in the morning was perfect. I painted, lost in the rhythm. For a moment, the dread receded.

Afternoon light shifted. My mood darkened. I sat, staring at the unfinished canvas. What was I doing? Why did I paint? Why seek connections that left me hollow?

Maybe it's human nature, this search for meaning. Or maybe it's just me. A lost art student in a chaotic world. Nights blended into days. Faces blurred. The canvas waited.

Tonight, I'd go out again. Meet someone new. Repeat the cycle. For now, I painted. In creation, I found a flicker of meaning. It was all I had. Maybe, just maybe, it was enough.