I trudged along this newly found path of depravity, with no clear goal in mind. I put my masochistic traits in full view of the crowd, we cheered, applauded and beat me with equal enthusiasm. As the show got old, the crowd started to dissipate. Only those with a personal reason to completely destroy me remained.
They did not need physical instruments, for they were too smart for that. They slowly but surely picked apart my fragile mental state, the only true way to cripple a person. I could feel them beginning to take over, yet I kept coming back for more.
As I picked up my beaten and broken body off the dirty wet ground I wondered when my next session would be, but knew it wouldn't belong. Despite a slight gap it was an almost weekly endeavor (sometimes more often, but I cant always be that lucky).
As I trudged back along the dark path again, I smiled to myself, because that was still less detrimental then spending even one second alone with my thoughts.
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