![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wear your heart on your skin in this life
Feb. 18th, 2018 07:00 pmI can't stop looking at my arm, which is a strange kind of vanity given that it's my body but not my art.
I'd told the artist the general idea of what I wanted, an illustration of Earth to anyone else but to me a representation of all I'd left behind, all the places my father and I had been and all the things I'll never again see. It's odd that the design came so easily to me, more easily than the placement on the inside of my arm – impossibly delicate and yet permanent.
I love it, and I love Tris for coming with me. Though I'd watched in wonder while the artist put the permanent art onto my skin, it had helped to have someone to talk to and someone who knew what I was going through. And it had hurt, maybe as much but in a different way than I expected. A scratching instead of a stabbing that did strange, wonderful things to my adrenalin.
There's clear wrap around it right now and I'm anxious for time to pass so I can see my tattoo better, as if I don't have a lifetime to look at it forever. I never thought I'd be someone who would wound up tattooed but, well, I've never been any good at commitment... except for the type that's forced on me, apparently.
Maybe that's what this is about. This is my choice, a decision I've made for myself. So much of my life has been out of control ever since I awoke on the Avalon. Jim, Darrow – trying to figure out where my writing fits in here. Where I fit in here.
Lifting my gaze from my arm I'm so caught in my own world, smiling, that I don't realize someone's spoken to me until I see the expectant look on their face. I can't help but grin more broadly in turn. "I'm sorry," I say. "What did you say?"
[Find Aurora with a tattoo similar to the one linked above, wrapped in plastic, somewhere around Stick 'em Ink. She's happy. I can't find a specific tattoo I like better but you get the idea.]
I'd told the artist the general idea of what I wanted, an illustration of Earth to anyone else but to me a representation of all I'd left behind, all the places my father and I had been and all the things I'll never again see. It's odd that the design came so easily to me, more easily than the placement on the inside of my arm – impossibly delicate and yet permanent.
I love it, and I love Tris for coming with me. Though I'd watched in wonder while the artist put the permanent art onto my skin, it had helped to have someone to talk to and someone who knew what I was going through. And it had hurt, maybe as much but in a different way than I expected. A scratching instead of a stabbing that did strange, wonderful things to my adrenalin.
There's clear wrap around it right now and I'm anxious for time to pass so I can see my tattoo better, as if I don't have a lifetime to look at it forever. I never thought I'd be someone who would wound up tattooed but, well, I've never been any good at commitment... except for the type that's forced on me, apparently.
Maybe that's what this is about. This is my choice, a decision I've made for myself. So much of my life has been out of control ever since I awoke on the Avalon. Jim, Darrow – trying to figure out where my writing fits in here. Where I fit in here.
Lifting my gaze from my arm I'm so caught in my own world, smiling, that I don't realize someone's spoken to me until I see the expectant look on their face. I can't help but grin more broadly in turn. "I'm sorry," I say. "What did you say?"
[Find Aurora with a tattoo similar to the one linked above, wrapped in plastic, somewhere around Stick 'em Ink. She's happy. I can't find a specific tattoo I like better but you get the idea.]
