Last night I dreamed I was in a "relationship" with this sadist. He wanted to hit me. Naturally, being a masochist I let him, even wanted him to. He hit me, and he asked if it hurt. It was a pretty solid strike, it stung and disoriented me for a second. I told him no, it was okay. Then he really let loose and hit me really hard, almost felt like he broke something. He asked if it hurt, this time I could not deny that it hurt. He looked disappointed. I felt disappointed in myself for saying that it hurt. Because there was a part of me that felt a sense of relief from the pain. I'm always so self-deprecating that it feels good when someone validates my inner thoughts. I remember the fuzzy feeling that came over me, the spacey freedom of just being in that moment. I retracted my previous statement and asked him to do it again. He looked thrilled and punched me so hard in the face that drool came out of my mouth. He seemed happy with this, almost like he was training me to deal with greater pain like his plans went even darker and more sadistic. Just the tip of the iceberg. I told him it was okay even though I could already feel my lips and eye swelling. He smiled.
I woke up wishing the dream was true. I woke up genuinely craving to be hit in the face. To be around someone who wanted to physically hurt me. I wanted to endure pain and pretend it didn't hurt to maintain that pride in myself. It feels so good to have that internal critic that is always inside come on the outside and be someone else for a change. For a few moments I am not my own worst enemy and I feel this great sense of relief and freedom. When your enemy is inside of you and invisible it's just plain euphoric to have a clear enemy right in front of you. To have those complicated thoughts in my head silence for a while. Pain given by another is always a welcome sensation. It's so much better than the deep humiliation I feel inside the unworthiness, the unloved, the never good enough feeling I live with daily. Most days I wish I wasn't like this. It's probably not the "healthiest" of things to feel this way. Most men think I'm crazy if I ask them to hit me or abuse me. A sadist I lived with for a little while stopped hitting me to torture me more. It's infuriating and incredibly lonely to be so broken and weird. To know that no matter how much self-growth I do, no matter how much I try to get out these feelings I just want to be abused. I've lived with them for so long. They do not fade, as time passes I can feel them growing inside of me, overtaking my daily thoughts and now my dreams. And the strangest feeling is that no matter how isolated, and strange I feel, I like it. I can't help feeling like I'm some opposite end of a piece of the puzzle and I too was put here for a reason.
Xoxo
Candy
