Dopamine Loop

(An aggressive, hyper-fast trap hi-hat roll explodes. It stutters violently, layered over a deep, ominous sub-bass note that sustains for bars. The digital keyboard typing sound returns, but it is sped up, sounding chaotic.)

It’s been four hours since the last message. You said you were stepping into a meeting, said you’d be swamped all day. The logical part of my brain knows you have a life. But my chest is already tightening up, preparing for the drop. I keep opening our chat, watching the "Active Now" dot blink green. Then turn gray. Then green again. Are you looking at me? Or am I just another name on your screen? Please don’t do what the others did. Please don’t make me text you twice.

(The hi-hats double in speed. A distorted synth swell begins to rise, sounding like a digital siren.)

Because I know the script by heart now.

They hit you hard with the romance, make you feel like the only girl alive.Then they pull back. They go cold. They give you just enough to keep you hooked. They want the chase. But I’m not running anymore.

(The beat drops into a heavy, grinding electronic R&B rhythm. The sub-bass hits with a physical weight.)

I’m stuck in the dopamine loop, staring at the screen.

Waiting for the hit, waiting for the screen to light up green.

Don’t turn into a one-word text.

Don’t turn into a ghost like the rest.

If you’re busy, just tell me you’re busy, but keep it real.

Don’t play cool just to see how much I can feel.

I’m drowning in the loop.

(Glitched vocal sample:) Type it out... send it... type it out...

(The heavy drums drop out, leaving a cold, metallic 808 snare and a low, pulsing synth pad. The vocal gets closer, more raw.)

I don't need a response every five seconds. I just need to know the person I talked to last night wasn’t a character. Write me a paragraph while I'm asleep. Tell me about a random thought you had, even if you don't have time to read what I say back. Just show me that you’re 100% human. Because my anxiety is telling me the countdown has started. The countdown to the moment you get bored. The moment the effort dies.

(The music strips completely to just the hyper-fast, anxious hi-hats. No bass. No melody.)

Are you busy? Or are you just calculating? Are you typing a real sentence, or are you shrinking yourself down? Don't give me a "yeah." Don't give me an emoji. Give me the raw version of you. I’m so tired of the games.

(The heavy, distorted sub-bass drops back in one final time, but the melodies are completely glitched and fractured. The sound of a phone violently vibrating on wood repeats over and over.)

Just be consistent. Don't make me chase you. Don't let the loop break me.

(The sound of a single digital notification "ding" rings out, perfectly crisp and clear.)

Oh god. It’s him.

(A heavy bass drop hits on the final word, fading into a cold, low-frequency hum)