Pain becomes Pleasure
I am not the type of person to have strange fetishes, though I’ve come across a lot of strange individuals - which I would call mere acquaintances - who have a strange fetish of some sort.
From the mundane [guys who are particular about girls having perfectly clean feet] to the extreme [guys who like getting their toes licked and sucked], I’ve met them all. I never laughed at the strangeness of these people - that’s the truth! But I did, however, giggle a little to myself about it when they weren’t around to hear or see.
So, it is quite natural that I found myself in utter shock the day I found out I, in fact, do have a fetish of my own. Faint, if you must, but I have discovered that my threshold of pain opened gates to a reality I never knew existed.
I like pain.
Nay, I love pain.
I get a sudden adrenaline rush every time someone bites me. And every time I walk into the hospital, I get just a teeny tiny bit excited with the hope that I will need a blood test. Needles, teeth, knives, unintended cigarette burns… I could go on with strange things that arouse me, but I don’t want to scare you away.
Rene Descartes [I believe it was in his Meditation VI] assumed that the sensations of pain and pleasure are part of one continuum. And apparently, there are biological links between the neurochemical pathways used for the perception of pain and those involved in the perception of pleasure.
So, I believe that my endorphins [which hold back the sensations of pain] just don’t work well together with my dopamine pathways [which regulate the pleasurable emotions] causing some sort of haywire messaging to cause me, in turn, to not just like, but even thoroughly enjoy pain.
Or maybe I am just crazy and twisted in the brain.
You decide.