They get tough once you reach a certain point. That point where the relationship no longer feels like your escape or a fun time, but more of a burden, more of a heavy weight on your shoulders. Something that you wanna get rid of, but also wanna keep at the same time.

Sometimes I’m not sure if I’m awake in reality. I feel as though I’m just somebody’s character in their made up fantasy story, like I’m not real, & that everything around me is make-believe. I constantly feel like I’m lost. I never know who to trust or why I should even trust anybody, I never know when to expect things or how to handle them once they hit me. But the minute I step in, the minute that scent of blood, rubbing alcohol, vaseline, & ink fill my senses, I feel like I’m under my security blanket. I feel at home, with those red walls & checkerboard floors, blinding white lights, complete only with the anticipating sound of the coils rubbing together, causing friction & sparking electricity to power those needles. The needles that I know will penetrate those beautiful, saturated colors into my skin, underneath it’s 2nd layer, where it permanently becomes part of me, who I am, & who I always will be. When I am inside that tattoo shop, I am free. Stained for life, I forever will be.