Because I Wear My Heart on My Skin


The first thing people ask me when they see my tattoos is, "Wow is that permanent?" The second one follows quite immediately and inevitably. "Did it hurt?"
Well being a believer in Buddhism I am fiercely against the naivety called permanence. Fuck I can't even maintain a boyfriend long enough to stick around to wish me on my birthday. Some day my mortal body will go back to where it came from. So no, like everything else my tattoo is definitely not permanent. But yes, I would definitely die with those ink marks on my body.
And in reply to the next question, yes bitch it hurt. They will keep on drilling your skin on the same spot until the ink soaks through the outer layer of the skin into dermis. So it did hurt a little. And before you ask me why I put myself through the pain voluntarily and also paid for it I am going to read your mind and answer it anyway.
Because I love feeling that pain. Pain makes me feel that I am not dead yet. And it feels absolutely enthralling to feel alive in this mundane loveless godless shithole full of lies, deception and false promises. You wouldn't get it because you are absolutely comfortable living in a world where you or your dear ones could get blown into pieces in a matter of moment but needle scares the shit out of you.
I believe in having conviction. For me, without something to believe in zealously, life has no meaning. I cannot just live for the sake of living. This is my one fucking chance on this troubled to the core but beautiful little blue planet. (For the sake of argument even if I consider that I am going to come back again until my soul attains the Nirvana, I wouldn't be I ever again. And given my track record I am definitely going to come back as a mosquito, or a pig.) So I love the idea of carving my soul's whispers on my skin and a put a seal on it. Amidst the inevitability of impermanence this is perhaps my desperate attempt to hold on to something that matters to me. Living things don't last in my life anyway. Be it a dog or a person. But nobody can take away what has long been imprinted on my soul. And I am so proud of them. So I am going to wear them and flaunt them with my whole being, and die with them. And what's the better way to test your conviction than the path of agony itself?

Comments