I seem to have an inexplicable desire for pain.
More than curiosity. More than fascination. A strange craving, almost.
The way you’d try your hand at a spicier cuisine or experiment with a new hobby, to test your limits.
Perhaps, it’s my ardent interest in Psychology (one of my majors).
Maybe it stems from my belief that I am truly alive when I experience the A-Z of emotions in palpable intensities.
Or is the source subconscious guilt which makes pain feel right, even relieving?
I play with pain, the way a child blows air into balloons until the loud pop!
I am my own rubber band. I fiddle, pull and observe to see how far I can stretch, until the snap.
The breaking point is yet to be found.
Maybe, the reward is in that after feeling gutted, tortured, confused, I can surface up and claim, “That wasn’t so bad.”
We treat certain parts of ourselves as inner graveyards, with unimaginable ghosts.
Meant for paying an occasional, wary visit.
It is freeing to know that the darkness in me is tame in comparison to the illusory demons I suspect I will discover.
Maybe it’s time to invite the monsters under the bed to lay next to us and start a conversation.
You never know. You might just sleep better at night.
Copyright © Roshni Ramanan
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