We are socialized to believe that love is the greatest emotion, the ultimate goal in life. But I think that love is just the beginning. You can love an equal, but a Goddess demands not just to be loved, but adored, worshiped and even feared. I believe that experiencing true fear in the presence of a Goddess is a much stronger spiritual connection than mere love. Violence and fear are so intimate and intense. The abuser and her victim have a bond that nobody else can understand.
And when the violence erupts, its almost a relief. No longer am I walking the tense tight rope of emotions. No longer am I living in fear of what may happen, what I know will eventually happen. Its happening now, and I have to focus on each second of what is happening to me, and try to survive it. And if I survive it, there is calm on the other side. My emotions are spent, and there is peace for a time.
M told me that her own dark secret is a constant rage that she struggles to contain. This seems like a perfect complement my own dark secret, the need to be cruelly abused.
A friend of her’s was recently murdered by her partner. M seemed disgusted with me that I talk about such violence and my attraction to it. She’s right of course, it is disgusting. I am disgusting. I have gotten periodic tastes of such violence, and I think about gorging myself on it. I put myself in situations where I know my safety is at risk. I have often wondered if I will be killed someday, accidentally or on purpose, because of my obsession. What is most disgusting is that even if I could see into the future and know this will happen, I think I would still willingly walk the path to my destruction.
I suppose if that happens, there will be people who feel sorry for me, but they shouldn’t. It would have been pre-destined. These things don’t happen overnight, we arrive at the destination slowly over time, led down the road by how we respond emotionally to our treatment by others. I suspect that victims seek out their abusers as much, or maybe even more so, than abusers seek their victims.
And if M freely takes her anger out on me, she will have to confront the knowledge that she is becoming one of those monsters too, that she is not so different from them. She can rightly blame me, I encourage her behavior with my own. I have poisoned her mind. But she may someday become the batterer, and even the murderer.
If it were possible for me to write such a document, sign it, have it be legally recognized, I would write that I consent to being beaten and murdered so that if she felt the need to go that far, she can do so confidently, knowing there will be no legal consequences. I would live under that cloud, wondering when the day will come that that document is needed. How could I not do that for someone I love enough to destroy me?
M thinks that I romanticize death, but I think I do quite the opposite: I don’t think it has the importance for me that it has for others. I worry much more about how I might die, and for that matter, how I live, than death. Death comes to everyone, and what would I be giving up? A struggle to survive every day? I long to disappear, to cease existing, to be forgotten. I want that even while I’m alive.
When I am with M, I am nothing but a piece of meat for her to throw around, beat, use. I like feeling like I am nothing. My desires are nothing, my opinions are nothing, I am just this thing that exists to suffer.