When you love something, you don’t threaten it. You don’t punish it. You fight for it. You take care of it. You put it first.
I do not pray for a lighter load, but for a stronger back.
In truth, you like the pain. You like it because you believe you deserve it, and the fact that you’re putting yourself through pain means you are doing what you, by all rights, ought to do. You’re doing something right. Your ability to withstand pain is your claim to fame. It is ascetic, holy. It is self-control. It is masochism and masochism is pleasurable to many, but we don’t like to think about that. We don’t like to think that a person could have a twisted auto erotic life going on, be both a top and a bottom, and experience both at once: the pleasure of beating the hell out of a body shackled at the wrists and the pleasure of being the body and knowing we deserve each blow.
- joins tumblr to pass time
- becomes a radical feminist
In America you get more dirty looks for wearing a hijab than wearing a “Cool story babe now make me a sandwich” shirt let that sink in.