“why do you love pain so much?”
you ask.
“because it knows me well.”
i reply.
“every inch of you?”
a smile creeps up on my face.
“every trickle of a tear,
every drip of blood, every trace of a scar.”
"and it doesn’t hurt you?”
and with this, I could have laughed,
because what kind of question was that?

but I didn’t.
because it wasn’t pain that hurt me.

i loved pain because of its ability to dig into flesh.
because of its ability to gouge into hearts.
because it's the only reassurance that I am alive.
because of its ability to help me back up,
because I needed vengeance.

because of its ability
to hurt
you.