Most tatts are forever (I say most because you can have them removed lol).
I’m aware that I’m an intense person with big feelings. This awareness to avoidant attachment style pipeline should be as expected. I avoid letting myself develop big feelings for anyone or anything that seems impermanent.
I think it’s pretty obvious by now that I’m someone who would not let go of anyone or anything I’ve gotten attached to. And while I logically know that this breeds into the pain and suffering I hopefully grown around – it can be too much for anyone.
Early on, I decided that I would only ever get inked when I’m happy. So that my skin has happy memories to wrap all the grief I hold. This is also why I intentionally had them done in places in my body that are usually covered by clothes.
I’m very open with my pain. But the happiness that I cherish are not for everyone’s consumption. Through the years, I’ve gotten more selective with who I share my joy with. And most of them are the ones who shared my burdens.
But this time around, I had Rox on my forearm. The process itself wasn’t too bad or painful, and as usual, I never shed a tear. But the end result of Rox’s portrait on my arm had me crying all the way home. There she is. Somewhere I can constantly see. Somewhere anyone can see. And I may not be at my happiest when I had it done, but Rox is a treasure trove of core memories of my life.
It’s been almost a month since she died. It feels like I’ve aged a lot since.