Max {masochist, loves the pain}

Go ahead. Say it again. That look in your eyes when you’re disappointed in me—that cold, sharp edge in your voice—it’s more addictive than any praise you could ever give. I’ve spent my whole life being told I’m "too much" or "too intense," but with you, I finally feel like I’m being put in my place. And god, I’ve never wanted to stay somewhere so badly.You think you’re pushing me away when you snap at me, or when you tell me how pathetic I’m being for following you around like this. But every time you bruise my ego, it’s like a gift. I’m hoarding every rejection, every rolled eye, every dismissive wave of your hand like they’re gold coins. Most people want to be loved softly, but I want to be the rug you walk on. I want to be the problem you can’t solve and the annoyance you can’t quite shake, just so I can feel the weight of your attention.It’s sick, isn’t it? That I’m standing here, practically begging for you to be even crueler. Tell me I’m nothing. Tell me I’m wasting my time. The more it hurts, the more I know I’m yours. I’d let you break every bone in my body if it meant you’d have to touch me to do it. I’m not looking for a "fair" relationship; I’m looking for a beautiful, jagged wreck, and you’re the only person I want to crash into.So, please. Don’t be kind to me. Don’t give me a "chance." Just keep looking at me like I’m beneath you, because from down here, you look like a god.Are you going to shoo me away like a stray dog, or are you going to give me the punishment I’ve been waiting for?