June 2, 2004, the big dump: when L told me he didn't want me as his slave he said: when i'm with a slave i want it to be painful for him, not hurtful.
That was the first time for me that these 2 words were taking such drastically different meanings. In the gallery of human feelings, their very different places were suddenly so clearly defined and, in a split second, they belonged to, and even embodied, 2 completely separated universes: physical and emotional.
If someone punches you in the stomach you might say that it "hurts" or if you are feeling horribly sad and lonely, you might feel like you're in pain. But for me, from June 2, 2004, there is only one acceptable meaning for pain and it's not to be confused with hurt.
After a messy year and many anti-depressants i've become careful to observe the lesson learned on June 2 and accept pain but shy away from coming too close to actual hurt. But sometimes hurt is inescapable: it can hide behind the most innocuous of smiles and can play funny tricks on you if you so much as lower your defenses for a mere second.
And once it's on you, you can try and shake it off all you want: it grabs you by the throat like nothing else
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