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.

Writings on my skin.

Good evening fellow earthlings,

as you’ve probably noticed by now, I have a particular fondness for tattoos. In other words, I love them. There’s just something about having your skin marked with something personal, a message that you can choose to show the world, or keep private, a reminder that’s only for you to see. And it’s forever. This is usually the most off-putting part for people, but that’s actually one of the things I like the most about tattoos. Forever. I love forever.

So, one of the dreams I have in life is to get a tattoo. Well, a couple, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves here. Though it’s a definite desire I have, I’ve never thought of it as something I’d actually do. Why, you ask? The most current reason is that my mother wouldn’t approve. She doesn’t have anything against people with tattoos, but doesn’t approve because of the whole “honor your body, for it is your temple” thing (which I absolutely agree with, but obviously, tattooing would be like decorating and celebrating that temple). I know this may sound trivial, but remember that I’m still a minor, and mommy’s rules go. However, I am turning eighteen this year. Becoming an adult and all that stuff. Which is bull, because we all know that you don’t actually magically grow up the moment you turn eighteen, and your parents don’t automatically let go. But the real reason is probably that I’m too chicken shit. There are two kinds of people in the world: dreamers and go getters, the latter being the upgraded version of the former. Unfortunately, I have not upgraded, and ideas in my mind rarely leave the mental drawing board.

However, there’s nothing wrong with dreaming, it is the first step towards becoming a go getter. So let’s dream a little, shall we? Let’s say that I am actually getting a tattoo. What would I get? As much as I love the idea of having beautiful artwork on my body, that doesn’t really feel like me. At least art in the form of images. What feels like me? Art in the form of words. Words, words, words. I live for them. I love reading, writing and living by words. And honestly, I feel like I’m better at writing what I feel than saying them out loud. I found this website with the prettiest font I ever saw, so here are the words that I would probably choose if I were to get tattooed right now, in the following style as well:

This sentence kind of summarizes my life in the most beautiful way. I spend most of my time thinking about what the meaning of life might be, and even though there’s no way I’ll know the definite answer, I strive to find everything I can that may make my life more than it is. Even though this is my clear intention in everything I do, I sometimes forget that. When things get scary, I simply choose to do nothing, missing what could be, instead choosing to remain where I am. Which is an okay place, but nowhere near where I want to end up. So this would be a great reminder. Another reason for me wanting this quote is that I first read it in Looking for Alaska, by John Green, which is, along with The Catcher in the Rye, my favorite book. And even though my life will probably change and I’ll read plenty of other books, some that may be better, this one will always be the one that changed me, like all things do, but in a way that I feel was so necessary for me. It opened my eyes, and my mind, and it will always hold a special place in my heart.

If the first one is a reminder of what I want to achieve in life, this one is a reminder of what I have, and what I will need to find it. Even though you hear them all the time, it’s so easy to forget these things. Faith is something that is extremely important to me. In fact, to all human beings. Even if it necessarily doesn’t have to mean faith in the religious sense. Personally, I do believe in God. I believe there’s someone out there looking after me, even though it might not feel that way all the time, and I want to be able to remember that. Always. But, equal in importance, I also want to be reminded of the fact that I mustn’t lose faith in myself. And I can’t lose faith in humanity either. Even when things are looking dark. Hope isn’t something I have to be reminded of to have, because even in the worst situations – we always feel hope. Even when we feel hopeless, we have hope. The reason for me wanting that word is because sometimes, I forget to acknowledge that hope. When things feel shit, I still have that feeling of hope, but I need to put that feeling front and center, because with hope comes strength, and with strength – you can do anything. And lastly, love. Love is everything. Love is the most beautiful thing in this world, and if you have love, the rest might not come automatically, but it gets a heck of a lot easier to go find it.

Actually writing out these reasons makes me want these words on me even more. See? I told you that I’m better at writing what I think than saying it…maybe even better at writing than actually thinking it. I don’t know. I might get them tattooed. One day.

Haunted.

The moment when I close my eyes and fall onto my bed, letting out the breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding for the entire day. When I feel the actual physical pain in my ribs, letting go hurting more than holding it in my lungs.

Letting every inkling of a thought I’ve had during the day come crashing down on me with full force. Feeling the callous winds whip at my skin, beating me mercilessly. Feeling my fingers twitch, trying to channel the pain.

Blasphemy.

Feeling my brain being tortured by black, malicious things. Breaths becoming more shallow, cold sweat breaking out, thrashing around in bed as the darkness tries to encompass me. I desperately try to find something good, to distract myself. Attempts in futility. The shadows engulf me and drag me deeper and deeper. I claw at the hint of light, a mere dot in the great nothingness. Eventually, I grow tired. Exhausted.

I give up.

Fists unclench. My body, having been so tense, goes completely limp. I succumb to the darkness. I feel a million dark figures going through my head at once, crashing into each other. I let it take over completely, taking the hits in silence. No use in fighting it. I just suffer, feeling the tears stream down my face. The dark figures, creating chaos inside me, roam freely, seemingly without a goal. Eventually, I feel it.

A change.

The crashes don’t come with with the same speed. With the same force. With the same frequency. The storm is calming. As I feel the figures going up in smoke, one by one, I start to feel the hint of hope. One or two white figures enter my mind. Soaring. Elegantly twirling around, trying to mend the damaged battlefield. At the sight of the white figures, the shadows cower, getting smaller and smaller, until they disappear completely. The white figures leave traces of light, clearing the polluted air. Once filled with sulfur and smog, it is now completely clear. Luminescent.

As I feel the peace fill me, I flutter my eyes open. Through the curtains of my window, I see a sliver of sun light. I listen closely, and hear the faint chirping of birds. I realize that I’ve made it through another fight. And even though I know it won’t be long until the black demons come back, an army of shadows that’s bigger and stronger, knocking at my mental door. When will my white force of hope give up?

Nevermore.

I’m out there, look for my traces.

Hello friends,

Lately, I’ve noticed something about myself that I never really realized before. I often find myself leaving things of mine in random places. Not possessions, but just…marks, or something. I scribble thoughts, quotes, song lyrics, or just doodles in whatever place I can without getting caught. The school has a lot more feathers these days. These past few months, I’ve taken it to a new level. Commenting blogposts, leaving asks on tumblr, and even leaving letters in books I’ve borrowed. Just now, I asked myself: why?

Is it because I’m lonely and desperately crave some form of communication with people?

This is something that’s been on my mind a lot. I just want to talk to people. Maybe find someone like me. Here in cyberspace, people tend to be more open and honest, myself as a good example. People show who they really are, and that kind of gives me hope. There are people of substance out there, and I guess I’m just kind of starved of enjoyable interaction. So I reach out, in a very farfetched manner, I know, to see if anyone takes the bait. If anyone sees this little piece of me and wants to know more. Sad, but the truth.

Is it because I want to make someone’s life a little more exciting?

This is definitely a big part of it. I want to make people happy. I really do. When I write in someone’s askbox on tumblr, I write what’s truly on my mind. And every time, I’ve gotten this really appreciative response, because it’s so unexpected. When I read the response, my heart fills with happiness. It warms me to know that I’ve just made someone’s life a little better, even if it’s just temporary. And also, I would love to have that happen to me. To know that someone’s reaching out, letting me in to a tiny part of their head. That would be awesome. As you can tell, I’m essentially thinking of myself. Making someone happy makes me happy. And I love to be happy.

Is it because I’m scared of being forgotten?

I have two big fears – conflicts, and becoming irrelevant. It terrifies me to know that after I leave this life, all evidence of my existence could be erased. After I’m gone, what’s to say that I even lived in the first place? There’s a chance that I won’t even remember it, so is it real? These thought were recently spurred by my re-reading of Looking for Alaska, by John Green. That’s one of the books that now has a letter, written by me, in it. I really hope that existence can be explained as in the book, that we all consist of energy that was never created, and therefore can’t cease to exist. Anyways, I’m leaving marks so I can make as big of an impact on the world as possible…within reasonable limits. I just want to be remembered. That’s all.

I think it’s a combination of all of these, but ultimately – I’m just being selfish. Which made me think of altruism, as discussed in biology. The theory that every action has a selfish purpose. At first, I just couldn’t believe that there isn’t anything we do, solely to help each other. Then I though about it some more, and came to my own little revelation. We can’t just see it as generosity and selfishness, because both is one. They’re co-dependent, and together, the qualities works for the best for mankind. If you think about the whole universe as one, every selfish act is done for the entire population. I serve mankind, and mankind serves me, because we’re all part of the same thing. Enter the energy equation. Every single person is important, because we all, every single one of us, make up this world. And therefore, we are all essential to its existence. This whole universe thing is greater than each of us, but it consists of us all together. Our true essence, has not been created, and can’t be destroyed. This is the theory I choose to believe in, because it makes sense to me. And honestly, it gives me so much hope.