A paypig's reckoning

I used to think I needed it—the humiliation, the drain, the dopamine hit of sending money to a girl who barely remembered my name. It felt like control, like purpose. It wasn’t.

This site is my withdrawal.
A monument to every dollar I won’t send.
Every tribute I didn’t make.
Every “good boy” I’ll never hear again.

If you’re here, maybe you get it.
Maybe you’re stuck in the loop too.

This is your wake-up call.
She doesn’t love you.
You’re not special.
You’re not a king.
You’re a paycheck.

But you can quit. I’m trying. This is me trying.