(no subject)
pain. deep intense pain. that kind of pain you get when you're covered in bruises and your bones are just barely unbroken enough to not warrant a cast and there's really nothing else you can do besides O.D. on painkillers and lie, miserable and comatose, on the couch in the living room staring at the static on the tv you should probably turn off but won't because you don't have the energy to reach out and mash the power button on the remote. your throat feels like it's been run through a meat grinder, your joints ache like a ton of rusty, overused pipes on their last legs ready to crack in the frozen weather; and maybe, just maybe, you might have a headache but you can't really tell and at this point, you don't really care.
oh, pain.
it's that kind of feeling you long for every moment of your day. it's that prepare-yourself-to-moan-in-agony-as-you-roll-over-in-bed kind of torture that hurts so good you simply can't get enough of it. it's sweeter than honey and, as you shift to flip the pillow to the cold side and nearly shrivel from the pain, you're kind of glad you're not at work. you're kind of glad you almost got fired. you're almost overjoyed without a hint of sarcasm at the thought of being even more pained and miserable than you are at this very moment in time.
you sick fuck.
you love it when he chokes you and kisses you at the same time- it gets you off. you love it when he bites so hard you bleed and bruise and the marks don't fade for weeks at a time. you love it when he says he's just using you and that it doesn't mean a thing. you love knowing you're just an object to him, you're just something to satisfy his animal hunger. it's painful and beautiful and it damages you in every way possible: physical, mental, emotional. it kills you, and you love it.
crazygirl.
oh, pain.
it's that kind of feeling you long for every moment of your day. it's that prepare-yourself-to-moan-in-agony-as-you-roll-over-in-bed kind of torture that hurts so good you simply can't get enough of it. it's sweeter than honey and, as you shift to flip the pillow to the cold side and nearly shrivel from the pain, you're kind of glad you're not at work. you're kind of glad you almost got fired. you're almost overjoyed without a hint of sarcasm at the thought of being even more pained and miserable than you are at this very moment in time.
you sick fuck.
you love it when he chokes you and kisses you at the same time- it gets you off. you love it when he bites so hard you bleed and bruise and the marks don't fade for weeks at a time. you love it when he says he's just using you and that it doesn't mean a thing. you love knowing you're just an object to him, you're just something to satisfy his animal hunger. it's painful and beautiful and it damages you in every way possible: physical, mental, emotional. it kills you, and you love it.
crazygirl.