Today I canβt stop thinking about why I like when you hurt me. Sometimes, the words get in the way. Our emotional landscapes can be so different - despite feeling the same at our core, the expression can vary so much itβs hard to connect. When Iβm on my knees, on the floor for you, face pushed to the ground, I feel so exposed and vulnerable. The pain isnβt fun. You can hear that in my screams when you douse vinegar into my cuts, or feel it in the way my hands grab and wriggle while you whip me with the belt. It scares me and it hurts me, but it clarifies me too in way that I crave deeply. Like the vinegar sears the cuts white, like scars, burning out every last thing that moved there before it, the pain burns me up fresh. Like cleaning an oven - heat me up enough and some of that garbage inside is destroyed too, and ready to be cleaned out. My tears, my drop after itβs over, theyβre the proof that things are moving forward. That Iβm still growing. I feel remade in your hands, when Iβm in pain. A product of your work, shiny and fresh and ready to be the person you see in me.
@quartermoondad
Iβm such a lucky Daddy!!
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Yeah this is still super true!
