addicted to hurt

i used to crave pity,

bathe in it like it was proof that i mattered.

every sad song, every broken post,

felt like attention was oxygen.


i hated life,

my face,

my body,

my reflection.

and every time i fell short,

i threw myself back into the pit —

guilt, shame, repeat.


i built cycles out of suffering,

confused pain for purpose,

thought maybe if i felt enough,

i’d finally be free.


but it was all backwards.

i wasn’t healing — i was rehearsing my hurt,

playing both victim and villain in a story

that didn’t need either.


see, pain is addictive when it’s familiar.

you start to love the control it gives you,

the sympathy it brings.

but the moment you let it go,

you realize you never needed saving —

you just needed stillness.


now i see it clear:

healing ain’t loud.

it’s not fireworks or revenge arcs.

it’s choosing peace when pain feels safer.

it’s walking away from your own pity party

and building something in the quiet.


so ask yourself —

are you healing,

or are you just high off your hurt?


— Mr. Mak


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