tattoo

image

Image credit: glamourmagazine.co.uk

isn’t it funny how I frantically tried everything, stubbornly believing there was a solution to this? I did it all; getting under others, drinking, partying, drugs, crying, painting, questioning, praying, oh so much praying. nothing worked. I continued to float through my own life, walking dead. ironic, because I hate that fucking show. I wonder how I did it, how I lived through the many  breakdowns. crying mid-sentence in public places. not answering phone calls because there was a perpetual lump of pain stuck in my throat and it hurt. everything hurt.

sigh.
it hit me eventually, the epiphany. I cannot run away from myself. I cannot exit my own skin and wander the streets raw, exposed, yet hoping for a better life. I cannot be absent from my own life in hopes of somehow escaping you… you were carved onto my beating heart the very first time I heard your voice. the painfully sweet ink of irrepressible need traced zodiac signs that I did not understand or interpret. signs that shone through my iridescent skin like a tattoo that cannot be removed because to attempt such a thing will be the death of me.
there is no escaping you.

Cheers,
@msmeddle

P. S.
Why do you keep checking this blog? You stress my conscience and force me to post new stuff 😭

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2 thoughts on “tattoo

Spill the tea, sis.

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