It all started when I was 14, I woke up in the middle of the night from an incessant pain in my forearm that felt like the continuous injections we were given in school but more frequent and amateur in comparison. Looking down I saw a smiley face done with all the artistic capabilities of a chipmunk on crack that managed to get its grubby little paws on a stick and poke set. I was grounded the next day for defiling my body in such a 'preposterous way' despite no evidence of the 'crime' found in my room, not that my parents didn't search heaven and hell. I was still grounded anyway.
Little did I know that this would be the start of a long fought struggle of suddenly and annoyingly being poked, prodded and stabbed to the point where my body was starting to look like a Picasso painting gone through a wood chipper and messily glued back together in hopes of something half the original value. The talent didn't improve.
So while most would see tattoos as a meaningful art piece shared between recipients it was obvious the culprit of my bodily damage didn't view it as such. So after a year of receiving unexpected torture by needle I decided that my 'soulmate' was in fact a dick and I would treat him as such, no matter what.
YOU ARE READING
Aligned souls
RomanceSoulmates exist. I know this because mine continuously gets tattooed and they show up on my body as a consequence. So how do I retaliate well it's just a simple concoction of -boring classes -pens -and my own artistic flare. Get one more tattoo I da...
