My hands were shaking like a cellphone on vibrate mode. The combination of the late afternoon cold and my nerves made it even worse. I've been picturing that exact moment in my head for a while now cause I've been planning all year for it... but while it was already being done, I was as good as a bed ridden old person. Words weren't coming out of my mouth, I couldn't make out one clear thought and I just kept staring at the shiny baby blue marble tiles that didn't seem to fit the interior of a tattoo parlor. 20 minutes of whining and blue tiles later, TA-DA! I was officially inked. Though it took me quite a while to realize that I just did a something so wreckless, it took me longer to digest the thought of myself getting married and having kids with a lightning bolt on my wrist. I don't regret this, there's no point in doing so. I have this now and no matter how much I try to rub it off, it will still be there.
While I was having my "I'm so happy I did this." speech to cover up my shock and disbelief, I touched it. I ran my fingers across my bruised skin. It made me jump off my seat just a little. It felt kind of good. I knew that he had felt this exact feeling too. The good kind of hurt. It makes you want to pull away but when you do, you just do it again with more pressure. I miss him. I miss him so much. It hurts more than ink and needles.
He had a tattoo too, a blazing skull that had "Fuck it." written at the bottom. It was also on his wrist. HE made me touch his tattoo so he'd feel the pain. I guess he needed reminders that it was real. It makes me wonder, Does he still feel the pain? Is he still reminded that I was real? It stings too much to think about the answers cause most likely they're all big fat NO's. I'd like to stay on the brighter side of things though. Maybe he just started those rumors to let me know that he still cares. Oh yeah, there were rumors, catty and ugly rumors. I hate this part but here we go.
My friends asked me if I was pregnant. No, I wasn't pregnant and I'm still not. I answered in snappy way, as if I was ready to chew someone's head off. Like I was in a yo mama battle. I felt my arms burn up as if I was in some video game or something. I was MAD. People pointed fingers and it all led back to him. Knowing that those words were processed from his brain and came out of his mouth hurt me like I was kicked on the shin. It literally made my heart break again when there was nothing left of it, it was insult to injury. I didn't want to believe that it was him. Later on, I had already accepted that fact. It sucked but it only made me think that he was bitter like a scorned woman after a messy divorce. It gave me hope.
Since we broke up, we started seeing other people. Though we never talk, I already know that he had also said I love you to other people. I've dated better guys, better in every aspect. But no matter how much they love me or how much I've learned to love them... they will never be my James. During our relationship, I did so many wrong things that it was miracle that we even lasted for that long. I don't regret a lot of things in my life but I am mad at myself for letting him leave me. Maybe this is Karma, I wouldn't know... or maybe this is just life. I can't see myself growing old without him holding my hand. Back when he was around, it was easy. The hardest things in life felt like walks in the park. I doubt if he still feels the same way but I'm hoping. I'm not expecting anything but I'm ready to beg. Since he left, I've achieved so many great things for myself but it doesn't feel like it's supposed to. Everything is without meaning. Everyday, It hurts even more. It's like a tattoo that will never heal. I still love you. Always have and always will.