marked

As the tattoo gun buzzed into life today, I felt that sense of fear that has become all too familiar in the past months. I knew that pain was imminent and my reaction was unpredictable. As she began, the needle piercing and sliding over my skin, the pain was vivid, sharp, and there were moments when it felt almost unbearable. And then, just as quickly, it was over, only to return again, fresh and sharp, and I unable to escape. I started to draw parallels between it and my experience in the past months: the pain coming and going, the grief ebbing and flowing, and the moments when I thought maybe I wouldn't make it.

But I did, in both cases, and when she finished, she left me with a wound that has become the physical representation of the one in my heart, my soul. It is a wound I will care for and tend to and then watch as it slowly begins to heal. But the mark it leaves will be with me forever. It will be the announcement to the outside world that you have changed me, that you are here, in my heart, never to be forgotten.

And you are with me, always.