I realized the other day that I listen to a lot of sad music. I love songs that make me contemplate the death of my loved ones. Just send me to a concert that will make me jump around with tears streaming down my face and I’m a happy camper.
I like friends that make me ponder how deeply a heart can break and movies that make my heart ache with fear and jealousy.
Maybe I just like pain?
Cliff at The Pervocracy did a “30 days of kink” project a little while ago, answering a question a day about preferences, experiences, memories and taking us to some unsettling places. The ending of Day 10: What are your hard limits? surprised me even though it shouldn’t have.
Cliff lists some physical limits and then adds:
Maybe the ultimate hard limit for me is emotional pain. I don’t ever want play to hurt my heart. I don’t want a scene to ever intentionally make me feel worthless or abandoned or repellent. I want my play to hurt, but I don’t ever want it to truly hurt me.
What do you do when you think that maybe emotional pain is what you’re attracted to in this world? And what does that mean for your potential for joy? Am I just a sociopath?