Ink.

I got a tattoo.

There, it’s out there. I’ve sat here for far too long, trying to figure out the best way to describe this thing. It’s all so….big. Huge. Just…honestly, there are no words for it. There are so many layers to what I’m feeling that it just comes out as nothing. It’s not only the aspect of having a tattoo, it’s also having this particular tattoo, having actually gone through with the decision, having sat through it, having taken the step, to be willing to face all the crap I probably will have to take for it, and dealing with the very little amount of crap that’s already been thrown at me.

I regret nothing.

And I know that I won’t. I just do. Because it’s so what I am, and now it’s been manifested as a physical part of me, as real as my skin, my brain and my heart. It’s me, and now everyone can see it. So if someone judges my tattoo, they judge me, and that’s fine. Because, like with everything else about me, if you don’t like it, then you can just walk away. Actually, run, because I don’t want you near me anyways.

I’ve been obsessed with tattoos in general for years now, and I’ve seen pictures of countless pieces of art. And even though my tattoo is about the shape of three coins, and don’t have any fancy designs or colors, it’s still the most beautiful tattoo I have ever seen. Because it is my life.

Faith, hope and love.

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