The first time I ever felt pain was an accident, obviously, and I didn't like it much either. But it grew on me, I suppose. Every time I feel guilt, shame, humiliation, anger, sadness, loneliness, physical pain, or really anything "bad," it feels totally awesome. I look back on long, fitful nights of insomnia and eventually crying myself to sleep, and I can't help but smile.

I'll isolate myself because I crave human contact. I'll start fights just to fight, because I hate to hurt others, and I love to do things I hate. I've always loved arguing in hopes that I'll be insulted or, even better, beat up. Pain doesn't make me feel happy so much as somewhat content. It doesn't make me feel alive either, just a little bit better about everything. I still feel the negative effects, though, and I'm sort of worried about that. I'm not sure if I hate myself so much that I just want to see myself in pain, or what it is, but there's something about pain that just works for me.

In film class, we did watch some emotional films. I laughed while others cried, smiled as characters failed time and time again. It didn't make me happy, but the laughter came naturally. I have entire pages of my not-diary that are covered in blood, I soaked them with my own just for fun. I really don't think this is a very good coping method, and it's pretty clear that something is wrong with me.

But honestly, pain keeps me sane. Keeps me from laughing at others' suffering, from grabbing rocks and bashing in the skulls of everyone that annoys me, from screaming like a maniac every five seconds... There's got to be a better way.