The tattoo of owning yourself

‘Why did you do it?’
‘I never thought of the why, I guess something happened and made me want to do something, something forever. And the thing is, I don’t remember what it was; my tattoo is not a memory of something, it’s not a reminder, it’s a part of me. It was a part of me long before I chose to give it a piece of my skin.’


shawn_barber_06A subtle part of it, is the good and the bad. Not evil, I won’t talk about evil here, just the bad, the bad inside the good. The shape of a triangle, empty, like the good. The good is always empty. The good doesn’t ask for anything, it’s just there; accessible, coward, empty. But the bad, oh, the bad. It requires feelings, determination. It’s always full, and it gives you fullness. You can’t deny it, not ever, and more times than not it exhales good.


‘Do you regret something?’
‘I wouldn’t classify it as a regret, but I wish I would have made it sooner. My skin was ready, my soul was ready, but I was in a constant battle with my mind. I was debating the idea of forever. I don’t believe in forever, it’s a poor excuse for anything, and I won the battle by telling my brain that it won’t be forever; it will be for one day at a time.’


The math behind it. Math was always my lover. We took a break once, I won’t deny it. But in the case of this tattoo is not just pure math, it’s more the math behind everything. The math behind love, life, emptiness and fullness. Is the math of my life, the one I couldn’t go on without. The geometry of my own beauty, of my mind. The geometry of the richness and uselessness of my soul. The math of poetry, the math that holds the secrets of them all.


‘What was your biggest struggle with it?’
‘Accepting that I made it for myself, and not for anybody else. They see it, people I cherish and respect, and they chose to look somewhere else. They don’t agree. But it’s part of me now, for me it’s a beautiful quality, for them a flaw, but in the end, both me and them love me the same.’


Ah, the moon. It may hide from your sky, but she never hides from my life. When I see her I can only feel admiration for whatever entity created her. So powerful, so mysterious, so hidden in the light that I can not feel anything but a deep desire to disappear in her borrowed light. They said that if the world would be quiet enough you could hear her tell the stories of the universe, your story, my story. I believe that whomever invented Pi was inspired by the knowledge that the moon keeps for herself in the light of day.

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