A flash of understanding

A flash of understandingXK

#fiction, #pain, #masochism, #abuse, #internalisation

I’ve always been fascinated by pain; for as long as I can remember.

How overwhelming a sensation it is, and still how easily forgotten.

I’m not one of those who blame everything on ‘I was not loved… my mother never hugged me’, no nothing of that sort. I had a most normal childhood, nothing special really, two parents, and they were loving. I wasn’t a lonely child. I have two older siblings, a sister and a brother, and a little brother I also had. We got along well, of course we had our fights and arguments, all of us, anything else would have been suspicious. But I wasn’t molested or anything, I’m not one of those people who cryingly confess that ‘when I dropped the soap bar on the floor I had my brother up my but’. Nothing at all in that way, not even close, not at all. I was happy.

We were all happy.

Of course, I’ve done weird and inappropriate things, and seen my bits of shared craziness. But who hasn’t? No one lives in a glass bubble; we’re humans, not goldfishes in an aquarium, so that’s just as it should be. Yes my big brother did have this thing for torturing animals, and now you will all use that as an explanation for my psychological state, but please do not do that. Because I doubt that that affected me at all. If he was a grown-up man doing these things, he would have, with no hesitation from my point of view, been a clear ‘send him to the chair nominee’. But after all ‘torture’ is a bit of an over dramatic word to use here, he was just fascinated about life and death, power and force, as all boys are his age. They’re kids and they’re exploring the world.

Either way my memories don’t torment me at all. The flies crawling without wings, they’re just brief pictures from a very distant childhood. These birds with outplocked eyes, and the neighbor’s cat shocked in a black plastic bag and dumped in the river. Are just these diffuse pictures that come to my mind. Blurred as light damaged negatives. And I don’t associate them with my brother. No, not at all, I love my brother. I rather associate these memories and animals to this blur which the whole childhood from the viewpoint of being grown up is. It’s honestly hard to believe you’ve ever been a child.

As you might have figured out so far we didn’t have these kinds of overprotective parents, whom in their dust free houses harvest children allergic to being alive. And even if my father was an outdoor kind of guy and my mother also loved hiking – maybe not as much as my father but I’m sure she found a way to find peace with it. After all she taught me everything about flowers, while my father taught me about knives and ropes. They weren’t this pair of semi-fascist scouts, no they just liked their lungs filled with fresh air and the adventures feelings of climbing over fallen trees in the wild parts of a grand forest.

I have so much to thank them for, we were, and now I’m referring to me and my siblings, sort of the stars of the survival classes in school; ever since kindergarten to college, we were, and I’m not making this up, better than the rest. Which didn’t bother me at all, I was kind of a lonely wolf or a stray cat kind of person already from the start. Observing the rest of the human race I was doomed to be apart from a pleasant distance. This trait of mine worked hand in hand with being a girl, even though I know, you might not believe that. Early on I saw that guys and boys are way more forced to some kind of socialness, they’re expected in one or the other way to be part and take part – they argue, they fight, and if they leave their group they become a potential enemy and need to be obliterated… the only position a boy can take in order to receive some sense of peaceful solitude is the role of the geek, the nerd – the weak and undateable – the unmateable. Totally undangerous for other men. But with us girls, and now I’m not talking about women, because women are a different kind of breed from us girls, in a much more refined way than men are different from boys. Boys grow up and become men, we all can see that, while girls metamorphose through this loss of freedom into women. I hate women, they’re detestable.

BUT HAPPILY!

I’m forever made a girl

Unlike the boys, a girl can stray around, she can sit by herself, laugh and watch without being perceived as a potential danger. By the women she is perceived as cute or just strange. By the other girls she might, similarly to the perception of the women, be perceived as a bit odd, but more likely she’ll be perceived as an intellectual or just a fellow girl taking a break from sociability. For the part of the boys she’s just a girl as all girls are girls, and by the men she’s a more penetrable creature, a stray animal, a baby elephant away from its herd. I LOVED MEN

Early on I learnt what they wanted. How they wanted.

And they early on learnt what I wanted. How I wanted.

And I know that most of you are these hysterical feminazis who think men are animals, that might be true because we all are animals – a young little girl in pink as much as a bearded man in leather on his star-striped bike. Rather the reality is the opposite, men are gentle, constantly asking ‘I’m not too hard with you?’, ‘Just tell me to stop if you want me to stop, or if you want me to go slower, that’s no problem?’, ‘I bought a present for you, I hope you’ll like it’. But I want presents as much as I want questions.

I hate them.

The bigger the man, the bigger the pile of questions got. The trick was to have a look for BMWs, Teslas, Jaguars and never go with Fords, Opels or Audis. The better dressed the man, the fewer the questions, yet the purer the pain.

And I know so many of you refuse me this. You can’t imagine someone desiring this what I desire. And let me clarify this for you.

I WANT THIS.

I HAVE CHOSEN THIS.

I’M NOT A VICTIM.

And it’s not like I’m addicted to it or need it to keep on being. I’m not one of these submissive masochistic high heeled pin-up kinda girls, not this blond Kimkardashian kinda girl. No!

I just love it. The thrill of it.

Pain goes through my body. Limbs are shivering. Skin is reddened and later blued. Hair is ripped, uprooted. Lips are teared – all the kinds of lips a girl has.

It screams inside. It screams: run! It screams: No! It screams: oh... cc// sfXXljan??wf!! and then it doesn’t scream anymore. Void. A round heavy warm emptiness. I’m here. I exist.

I am

A flash of understanding what life is, and that I and what this I is, is alive.

Nothing else is, than this.

I need it.

Pain.