2025.

Pain is no longer just sensation it’s a ritual. It hurts, deeply. Like the sting and pressure of bursting a spot on your skin: sharp, throbbing, intimate. But then it fades. And in that emptiness, I find myself chasing it again. Over and over. Pain has become my compass, my addiction, my proof of life.

It’s the only way I know how to feel. Discomfort is my language. Pain is my pulse.

There is nothing else I fear. I want the pain to lead me somewhere beyond this flesh, beyond this burden. To death. To release. To freedom.

This work is not a cry for help. It is a confrontation. A mirror held to the quiet violence we inflict on ourselves to feel something. It asks: When does pain become identity? And what does it mean to seek liberation through destruction?