Waiting for the Night....
Sometime in the last few days, a mood crept up on me that I didnt notice untill it had full hold. Its a strange mood, but not entirely unpleasant, but it is difficult to explain to others simply because of the lack of common refference. That lack of common refference can make it quite difficult to even begin talking about it, simply because most people instantaniously reject the basic premise: sometimes pain feels good. Yes, you saw that right. Maybe I am crazy, or morbid, or sick, or perverse. I don't know. All I know is that sometimes, the thing that feels the best to me is pain. Whether its nails across the skin, or being flogged, or what ever, it sets the nerves singing in a way that there are no words to describe.
Yes, I know this is a strangely intamate thing to be talking about out here in public, but frankly, I think it needs to be talked about. Too many people seem to be afraid of this idea, even those who understand it shy from it because it is taboo to derive pleasure from your own pain. It is paradoxical, a violation of basic logc, a rejection of basic reason: how can being hurt feel good. I don't know, but it does. The initial sharp pain, taking away your breath, and then the sting, the burn, the tingle, afterwards, reminding you, lingering as a reminder. Why should I reject something that is so pleasurable?
This is definatly associated with the darker parts of myself, but I see no reason for that to frighten me out of it. Those of you who understand, understand.... those of you who don't will never know what you are missing until you open yourself up to it, and embrace the darkness. But only some of us can really understand.
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