Are you really Bill Clinton? Why did you sign the free-trade agreement and outsource Freightliner truck building to Mexico? You lost me my job, dude.
not in particular order
- a goddamn brain
- a high sex drive
- taste in music
- communication skills
- ability to make me feel less cynical about life and people
of course I have physical preferences, but that seems secondary to this list.
I enjoy pain. And it’s not even for some cliché reason like it makes me feel something other than sadness or to get my mind off of whatever shit is happening. That’s what literature is for, for me anyhow. It’s not like it’s a substitute for cutting myself. That was middle school years, for me at least. Pain just … feels … good. Any kind of pain really, except mental, because that shit sucks. I’m talking about physical pain.
Pain when ink is passing into and out of your skin. Pain when a needle is drawing biles of blood from your veins. Pain when the right side of your abdomen starts cramping during the fourth mile. Pain when you’re pushed up against a wall and you’re riding him in mid-air.
I’m not morbid. I swear. I’m quite sensitive to death and seeing others get hurt. Pain is such a blood-rushing feeling. No shit. But I never get tired of it. It feels different every time. Now don’t go thinking that I’m some sick masochist or something. Besides cutting myself in middle school because I believed I actually had real problems, I have never done harm to myself.
Once you enjoy pain, you pretty much become insensitive to what your body is telling you. And once you stop listening to your body, you kind of just focus on your mind. Sure it may still hurt, but you know it’s just this physical feeling that you know your body can endure. So you just deal with it and learn to love it.