Freedom from the Frenzy

I don't know how many times I can get kicked in the teeth and still get back up. I just don't know anymore. I stand up, I dust myself off, and I ask for more. Bring it on! I practically beg to be beaten down and kicked. I want it. I need it. Maybe in some warped way it helps me fuel my own self hatred. If it happens I must deserve it. But no one knows, and frankly no one cares, what part of me dies in the process. If I keep doing this - I won't be the same person when it's over. I'll be a shell, nothing but a shell of a person - who is no longer capable of love, but who simply exists in a void of nothing. Maybe that's what I really want to be - maybe that's why I do what I do. I don't know. But I know I hate the pain. I hate it! I hate it and I want the pain to stop.