I Do For I Like The Pain— Inspired by Boy in the Bubble

Knock me out. Punch me like I was not going to live again, attacked me with a rapier or a heavy solid, not a shotgun pointing my head. I wanted to feel the pain; I liked the color of the liquid to get out from my mouth and even my eyebrows; all I wanted was the proof that no hurt is temporary; the feeling is nothing when I am on the road. Boys should endure the pain, for a painless is not a real man. The clash and resemblance, I was in the fight not with a human but within my humane.

Can I write something honest and about to hold? Comes from a man who wanted to define pain but not ordinarily. They enjoy it; painful is seduction. The pain in the body is like ecstasy, a figure of desert and the point of some life wants. Men enjoy the pain; it's like a game no one knew. The more painful it will become, the best player I shall be.

The domination of a man in the world was questioning who was real and not. The playful agenda and the seductive activity of men. Humans love to see others in pain; that's a real one. We loved to watch Manny Pacquiao or any boxer bled in the eyes; we enjoyed seeing a loser after the match of our favorite one. We loved the guy on the mask pretending and hiding, an arena of pain. We loved to see an action star being hurt and comes the transmission of they will be the one who will break the opponents. The more painful it was, the more we enjoyed seeing it. The reddish the body. It was a treasure to keep.

Not just others, but within ourselves, we loved doing it, we hurt it little by little until we enjoyed in the state as becomes happiness.

I remember when I was young, and the world was so cruel as my eyes could see. People are overegging, and I just feel nothing but numb. When your body feels nothing but a freeze of joint, you will actually look for some trilling event like looking for anyone who could punch your face or your body, fight, and just surrender and let him do all the jobs. Even yourselves alone become the enemy, and you must be the one to bang it out to the wall and seek some enjoyment. I enjoyed those sensations; the pain was gaining more as I remembered. There was rhythm in drumming my head to the wall, a number sequence like an odd count. Trumpet-like drumming sound and the boomerang of hatred of my life.

The boom is like a music note, passing through the thin air and the heavy head. Then the skin is the one who begged for me to stop. The skin dried a little bit, I stopped for a moment, but the pain was addicting. I can't help but continue; I look at the soft surface and enjoy the world of negating pain.

Also, when I was a teenager, I had this thing that really looking some blindness. I want to tease someone so they will punch me back, then come more irritations to them to make it harder. Most of them are ladies knocked with hair and even their shirts. Then come here like a tiger that will attack me, then they will be the one that leaves me, not I am who was satisfied.

The pain is like ecstasy; it's well-defined and more than what we thought. Sometimes we cry because of pain, some pain is hidden as love to self-induce them, and like a strange feeling, sometimes we love and look at the pain.

I DO IT BECAUSE I LOVE THE PAIN

Still strange to some to become a pain lover, but I look forward to the other side of the angle. Most men are looking for it but don't define they love doing it. This will make an argument for the said topic.

I admit I was drowned and emotionally weakened at that time. I knew that it was not typical to love pain like loving negativity as in my younger days. I don't want that my son feels the same childhood as I do; I don't want to repeat the history of what pain is so much comfortable.

I do it because I loved the pain, I was a rebel at that time, and I admit it.

To understand people who choose to cut themselves, mark and scar their own. They don't love the pain, but they needed that one.

Still strange why I wrote this topic; still, a question needed to be met and defined. It might be because I can't tell you everything.

Do you love the pain? Endures for the sake of something?

People loved the pain when they felt none because we wanted to survive; we tried to wake up and hope that banging could cause a comfort that we can not and never get from others. That might be, but others could manifest themselves.