S&M

Sado masachism. This is an interesting topic. And one I think I’m qualified to make judgement on.

I’m not really a sadist. I say I am, but I don’t really think like one. Au contraire, I’d like it if everyone could be happy with their lives, and feel what they needed to, without ever becoming bitter of disillusioned.

Life, unfortunatly is just not that simple. No. Things just never go right when you expect them to, and visa versa.

My girlfriend is into Self mutilation, which I consider to be the ultimate form of masochism. It is the second most common psychological illness in America, rating only after Eating disorders, such as Anorexia. Does this not scare people? That the human race is a species which not only delights in the destruction of it’s brethren, but delights in it’s own desecration as well?

I think it is scary. I’ve known about self mutilation for a long time, and I’ve even tried it. But to me, it is a mere release, which I get more easily from a game of pool, or from writing down how I feel (something I’ve been doing for some time).

So even though I’ve done it, I don’t understand it. How can I? If you ask, noone will tell you why they do it except. “If I’m hurting on the outside I’m not hurting on the inside”.

This makes no sense. Yeah it goes away, but only for a short time, and then you have to do it again. Find out what the inside problem is, don’t run from it. Pain is something your body gives you to let you know something is WRONG. Don’t turn away from that.

Of course this is just my opinion. 5 or 6 of the people I’ve met so far (face to face), who do this, say they are quite happy with it. It’s almost a badge. A gothic way of saying “Here I am. Look what society did to me”. It’s a shame, because they can’t take the responsibility that they need to sort the problems out themselves.

This is going somewhere. For the entire time I’ve known about this illness, I’ve been trying to stop the people I know and care about, from doing it. This poem was written in one of those moments of derision when I felt I wasn’t making any headway. (Note: To anyone in my predicament. Please feel free to contact me, and WE can compare sob stories. Perhaps we can give each other some hint into why the people we care about do this to themselves.)

HEALING

Holding, healing, touching, feeling, the wounds beneath our hand,

bathing, breathing, catching, freeing, the ragged crimson band,

Catch the monster burning deep, upon the maidens skin.

If the dragon makes escape it will take the life within.

Blades are helpless, steel of pain, against the monsters hide.

The blow transfers into the girl, and kills the one inside.

The scars the monster burns in her are deep and cut the core,

And yet she stands and does not fight, with a gaze that begs for more.

But fight we must against the beast with weapons that bear naught,

and try to break the razor chains, in which the maid is caught.

Holding, healing, touching, feeling, the wounds beneath our hand,

bathing, breathing, catching, freeing, the ragged crimson band,

“Is there a way to kill the beast?” the village peasents cry.

Maybe not, but it’s all we’ve got, and so we continue to try.