I read this recently on someone's myspace. I don't want to name names because I don't know if this makes me a creeper for looking at this online in this blog. I just read through it and thoroughly enjoyed the entire thing. The part below stuck out though:
"My choice to get tattoos had nothing to do with a woman with a pearl necklace and an overbearing Mother, they were not intended to offend the elderly who tell me I'll never get married looking the way I do, they had nothing to do with attracting members of the opposite sex, and were not meant to make me look "tough". Want to know something funny? I don't even like tattoos. I don't read tattoo magazines, I don't like tattoo culture, I could care less about other's people's "ink". So why is there so much ink embedded in my skin? I may lose everything I ever own, everyone I ever know, but I will always have these images to remind me of the past and set the direction of my future. These markers of time and place and mind that I cannot escape even if I want to, which I don't, because I like who and where I am and if that ever changes then I deserve whatever pain or humiliation comes my way. Perhaps I am not explaining this well, and I'm not sure if I can. These are not just random pictures picked off a wall. These are pieces of me, guides, maps, promises, and confessions. An oath of permanence. A rite of passage in a society that offers none. An association with a culture in a society that has forgotten what that means." -myspace blog kingdom
...and this is my hell.
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