Pain; strange is my favourite kind of sexual experience

Persistence of memory, Salvador Dali

Allow me to warn you how I go through pain. It begins very easily .. anybody who sees me in the moment just after the blow has always said.. you look so good, you sound so great, almost relieved. And then drip by drip, your pain across the skies begins to fill me. I hold onto that first moment with such amazing desperation, almost willing for that first cataclysmic moment of pain to repeat and repeat, because that I can deal with. Its the slow aftermath that gets unbearable. That return every day of the ghosts that first caused the pain, till it gets almost boring on your lips to say it again, but somehow not for your mind to dredge it up.

So I dreamt again of the way that this whole other relationship started, that I filled the blanks with details of what I have gone through earlier. So I felt that creeping crawling monster of discontent and pain all over my skin, so food turned tasteless in my mouth, sex too easy and not good enough even if the body is exploding with a decent enough orgasm. So it feels like I'll never feel anything good again, it feels like the rest of the world has stolen anything good and real from me and taken it away for themselves. And abandoned me totally .. to a place with twisted bitterness where I'll never be able to relate to anyone really again.

People do say useful things to you.. someone said, the one time i was sleeping with two women, I didn't tell her because I thought if I did she would dump me and sleep with ten men. One said, that the thing that upset him and led him to break of ties was that someone refused to acknowledge that there had ever been a relationship, and that he regretted most breaking off those ties. That he wants to learn French now for some semblance of a connection. I see a photograph of this man that he's talking about .. and mentally say on a dating site that photograph would make me say ...ohmygod, another chuth.

But look at pain.. can you ever really say what it will make you do? Because you can't really say what it would make you feel. Someone wants to take it away from you, make it theirs .. or simply have it happen to them. All I can say is .. I wish I could. And then again I'm almost getting fond of it, this gross hard ball of pain in my chest .. I hate it at times, and willingly bounce it around. It makes me want to be alone, it makes me want to be with people, it makes me want sex in situations that would surely be hurtful to others (which considering how this all began, I'm guessing would be some kind of karmic inevitability but i'm willing myself to break off those horrible patterns)

It makes me regret so much, suddenly grasp for a simpler solution. It makes all memory bad.. all of it. Not just one year or a few months, all of it. Its made me want to hurl myself off a building, to suddenly jump out of a moving vehicle .. to externalise it in some way.
It makes life slow .. it makes it feel that it will never get over or less. And I'm guessing it is becoming less by the day but then again maybe it isn't. It definitely seems to have grown on some days into something that I can't deal with. Its made me not breathe ..
and most of all...
its made love disappear ...
its just ended it slowly killing it off day by day. the invisible thrill under the skin, the ache for a person...its killed the very thing that caused it.

its made words empty .. as if they don't contain anything...
it wonders how or why is it possible for people to cause this and not say anything to you..
it becomes a pet, a squiggly constant companion.. it grows, diminishes, the strangest thing make it burst into flames that then consume you .. the most painful of stories put it to sleep

and most of all...
it makes it feel like life will never ever go back to where it was..
what if i'm permanently changed and disfigured by this?
it goes beyond calculations even of itself.. it loses memory of the strength of its own desire, crippled by circumstance it feels like its going to kill something so young, so small, so beautiful... the desire for life that i felt suddenly more than a year ago...

that it would take that desire that brought me here to this page, that made me cum on the beds of three strangers .. all lost in the next morning, that it would take my multi faceted pleasure in sex and kill it... and that is what i suspect is the desirable solution for many people.
and as much as i feel the pain cringe at being given this name...part of me knows that to be true. as much as revenge is written out of the story, it becomes part of it because of the almost mathematical nature of the next bend in the tale.

in an almost operatic sense i don't want to feel it in bits and pieces anymore...let the crescendo arrive.. let the wave break.. lets hear the fat lady sing...

i hear she's good