Lately, it may or may not be obvious, I’ve been pretty down. It’s probably the longest I’ve ever been this dark, and though the rational part of me still exists, I just can’t make it stop. The rational me isn’t loud enough, the poor fellow’s nailed to a cross in a field of poppies, being taunted by a creepy girl. He’s been locked inside a Heart Shaped Box.
Thinking along these lines, I went today for my twelfth tattoo.
Not every tattoo is an etching of hope, but they all mark something significant for me. So, no matter how bad I feel right now, whether or not it stops, it’s very real, and noted.5 comments
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