Saying goodbye to one of my loves… 

I love tattoos and I love MY tattoos. I have four of them – three are “hidden” on my back and along my torso – but one is on my wrist. 

When I got the small one of my wrist – a scroll saying “live ya life” – it was in honour of my younger cousin who had died at 18 (and was done before the TI ans Rihanna song of the same moniker). He had had those words tattooed onto his back … He was a free spirit and well loved. It was a shock to the family when he was killed in a hit and run accident in the states. 

Up until then I had never experienced death in that way of someone so closely related to me before and someone so young. I suppose at the time I got the tattoo in honour of him and to remind myself that life is short and I should live my life. I too was young at the time… And did not realize how things would change… 

Eight years after having gotten that tattoo I have decided to remove it. 

I have only told three people so far two friends and my mom ( and now you ). I wasn’t even sure we could get the procedure done in this country. But after a year of deliberation and finding a place that does it, I am going for my first removal session next week. 

My mother asked me why I was doing it… I didn’t really want to “tell” her because I didn’t want to hurt her or make her upset since the reason partially involved her. I felt it was easier to message it to her in a text the next day (Just so I wouldn’t have to be face to face). 

What should have been a good reminder is not anymore. Every time I look at the words on my wrist I remember the long line of people who have died since my cousin… My boyfriend’s best friend in 2009, my uncle and my boyfriend in 2010, another close friend of ours in 2011… Along with others… All taken too soon. 

 Me permanently being at home after my boyfriends death and has left me deeply rooted now in the mess that is my parents relationship – with one as a co-dependent and the other as an addict… I feel a sense of responsibility and guilt if I even leave the house for more than an hour if its not for work. I work to make as much money as I can so that if anything happens to me like it happened to everyone else… I know I can leave behind something for my mother so she will be alright. Everything I have goes to her. 

I can’t think of meeting someone and possibly getting married or migrating to somewhere and starting over or even moving out on my own. I feel like I would be abandoning her and worried about what he would do to her and to our home when I’m not there. 

I see friends who so easily change from one job to the next and while I am very good at what I do, at times I feel I do need a change but the idea of instability is too overwhelming for me to make that change. I don’t know when 12 years passed me by in the same job but it has. 

I feel like there is always some repetitive question at the back of my mind asking “how is this my life”? How did this happen to me?” … I don’t know when it happened but how did I become entrenched in a life of fear? … 

Plans of “living” some wonderful life out there is just… Not going to happen. I know I should “be positive” but I know and I feel like I’ve known for a long time that this is it… This is as good as it gets.  I’ve never been happy with life in general and less so now as the years have gone by. It’s ironic that I have a tattoo telling me to live my life yet I am left living a life that I do not love. It is a lie… And every time I look at my wrist I think of just how hypocritical it really is. I live just enough to make it to the next day and while I may enjoy life AT times I do not enjoy it MOST of the time. And I don’t see any way that that can change. 

So I’ve decided to remove the tattoo and though I am sure there will still be a faint reminder there perhaps it will not be so glaringly mocking as it is now…


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