So as a continuation of my week of firsts I got my first tattoo on the weekend. In a word, it was awesome. I thoroughly enjoyed the whole thing. I think I liked the pain most of all. No joke. It made me have to have a bit of a think about pain and my relation to it and I came to some conclusions.
During my headache period I got to the stage where I was almost waiting for them to come, not because I liked the pain, but because the relief was so intense when they stopped that it was like taking really really nice drugs. I had a bit of the same thing with the tattoo but only I really liked the pain more than the relief. I think because I have experienced such extremes of pain with my Cluster Headaches that I'm kinda getting used to it. It becomes such a big part of my life that I almost welcome it, I am so used to its presence that I feel odd if it is not there. Perhaps a sort of Stockholm syndrome. After I left the tattoo studio I felt like I was on top of the world, the endorphin load was intense, I felt like I could have derailed a train with my cock is how tough I felt, like I could have just flipped that bad boy out and made some headlines.
I'm not explaining it very well, but when you do something every night at the same time with out fail you are bound to begin to expect it and perhaps miss it a little when it doesn't come. Is that crazy? I am having a hard time putting it into words, perhaps, I became so used to the almost constant pain that life without it was somehow lacking something. Now I have found a replacement that gives me a similar thrill without me wishing that I was dead. There, I think that's probably enough.
Worst explanation of someone discovering masochism ever.
No comments:
Post a Comment