So it begins.

There’s an eerie quiet but a comfortable one. I can feel the love in the room. There is also apprehension mingled with a sense of excitement and a measure of sick puppy thrown into the mix. There is something about blood and needles and hooks that is beyond hot. it’s erotic in its own unique way. Fleeting glimpses of “oh my god, fuck, I’m doing this” and “Bring it on motherfucker”. Rapture.

The skin is cleaned, measured, everything precise and calculated. It’s like watching surgery. I twitch. All eyes are focused. A gleaming lone hook guided by precise hands meets flesh. It is then I see it, that moment of ecstasy mingled with pain. Pushing through the barrier of mind to somewhere else. It intrigues me to no end to watch and receive. There is nothing quite like the moment where the cold steel pierces flesh and takes you to a place no one else knows unless they have been there themselves.

The journey begins.

Pauses. Deep breaths. Pushing through the pain to get to the other side of euphoria. It is beautiful to gaze at the hooks and needles living in the flesh of the willing cushion. The blood trickles and for a fleeting moment there is an urge, to taste the blood, to feel it. Hungry. More pain, adrenalin rushing through the veins, eyes glazed. Smiles.

The moment of questioning, flesh begins to pull and stretch. The human body is capable of much more than we give it credit for. I watch, in awe part envy. Stretching and pulling. I hear the breathing I see the pain and the warrior heart inside battling the mind. Anticipation, right on the edge of flying and then the feet leave the ground. I hear the agony, the joy, the ride and I revel. My heart puffs in pride, in awe of the brave spirit.

It is not hurting oneself it is finding oneself through a journey. There is beauty to be found.

It is only in pain and ecstasy that we really find ourselves.