Pain needs to be balanced with pleasure.
Things in Luka's Boudoir are unbalanced right now. My pain/pleasure divide is uneven.
At the moment it is hard to give me pleasure, I know. Even a hug can make me wince, while a playful slap on the arse makes my nerve endings sing Ave Maria. Spontaneous physical attention is banned from the Boudoir until further notice. It's just not worth the screaming and sobbing and wretched cries of "what the fuck did you do that for?"
I cannot bend and flex and throw my heels above my head. I cannot twist or turn or dismount athletically. I move very, very carefully and weep with frustration and lack of sleep.
The pain and the tiredness spins my mood endlessly, uncontrollably. One moment I am a brave soldier, the next I am full of blubbering self-pity and comfort-eating all the biscuits. But sometimes, sometimes I am a vicious ratbag, bristling with venomous spines, and those times lead to excellent blog posts.
This isn't one of those times.