#if someone were to whip me into screaming pulp it’d be a change of scene. it’d pep me up. it'd get me off
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i miss a god who grinds my face in the dirt
#[talking about nothing]#well i miss the discipline of no discipline <- by this i mean the actual messy process of#starving yourself all day and drinking white wine at midnight to make yourself throw up nothing. i recognise it wasn’t discipline in the#sense of routine but it was discipline in the sense of punishment. which i’ve always had a keener sense of#i’m talking two years ago now. isn’t that strange? and i eat what i like now i buy biscuits and chutney on a whim#no punishment. there’s been nothing in my life to justify my constant surprise at a lack#of punishment. you’d think there’d be something identifiable but there hasn’t been not really#and i should know. maybe that’s it in itself— it’s always been absent#i’ve always had to create my own punishment. not a normal thing to do#if someone were to whip me into screaming pulp it’d be a change of scene. it’d pep me up. it'd get me off#if i can access something repressed even to myself: there is the fact that punishment from another person is sometimes followed#by aftercare. reconciliation– but most importantly being taken care of. but that's far too much to look at head-on#but if you punish yourself what aftercare do you deserve? a child crying out for attention?
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