Tattoo #9
Yesterday I got my ninth and most ambitious tattoo. It’s the most ambitious because unlike the other eight, I cannot really hide it. The others are on my arms and legs, two on my torso, all easily hidden by clothes. This new one, this one I cannot easily hide. It’s on the top of my right hand, a big red poppy.
I got it for a few reasons, I’ve definitely wanted it for awhile. The main idea being, I really like opiates, I used to like them far too much. I completely understand why people pick them up and never put them down. In many ways they’re beautiful, they help you feel absolutely fucking perfect no matter how astonishingly bad reality gets. I don’t care what anybody says, sometimes you need that feeling of safety, that peace. When the entire world goes dark, a little light helps. Back when I was really sick and really terrified, really alone, when everything I ever feared happened all at once, opiates were like a nice warm blanket, a kiss from Sara, a hug from God. I don’t at all regret or apologize for taking that comfort. Try living that nightmare and tell me I did the wrong thing. However, after some time, you have to stop hiding and face the darkness. Eventually, that thing that is so beautiful will hurt you.
This tattoo, a tattoo I cannot easily hide, is beautiful, but after not too long it definitely hurt me.
Share me:
