And there I was, sitting doing whatever it was when I happened to notice one of my housemates carefully powder his back and slowly slip on a loose shirt. Of course, I had to pass a “delicate darling back” comment. And he goes, “Don’t kid man, this hurts”. I’m like, “Huh? What does?”. And then he turns around to show me this black and red tattoo of a woman’s name and a broken rose. Apparently, he’d gotten it a couple of days before I returned here.
Woah. It looked cool and all that, but then I was curious as to what’s the story behind all of this. So a little probing resulted in him telling me this person was his ex. How much a 19 or so year old Indian male could have gone through with someone to refer to her as his ex, I don’t know, but apparently she was his ex. Religious differences (he being a Hindu and she a Muslim) resulted in parental pressure to split up.
You know, because they’re different species and all that, and their children will be poor misfit mutants otherwise.
Anyway, the deal here is how passionate must you be of something or someone to go about bearing a couple of weeks of physical pain and having a permanent reminder on your skin what it/they mean(t) to you? I don’t think I can do such a thing. I mean, this person’s supposed to be someone you should try to forget right? What about closure and all that. Forget closure, what about other people who might show up in the future? Won’t they ask questions? Why unnecessary hurt and so on?
As in, oh honey, I love you now, but I loved her then and this thing’s permanent, deal with it? It’s just a name.. INSCRIBED PERMANENTLY ON MY SKIN.
And the weird part is he isn’t doing this to prove anything to anyone either. Apparently not too many people, and especially not this ex, know (and will know) about it.
You know, this reminds me of when people write stuff on wet concrete or attempt to engrave things on the barks of trees? It’s like they’ve figured things probably won’t be that way forever, and they’re trying to take a snapshot on a medium they assume is more permanent. It’s not like your little heart drawing on that concrete slab is going to be eroded away anytime soon.
Isn’t it just enough to tell someone how you feel? Is all of this really necessary? Forget tell, isn’t it enough if you know?
Speaking of snapshots and people, I’ve heard enough of the “wahgnube, you ought to start taking real people in your photographs”. I’ve begun reading a most fascinating book. Watch out world, I’m getting there.
Anyone care to model? The only qualification you need to have is to be a little patient. I know I suck at this, but will improve. Humour me. You never know, it just might land you this big modelling gig. Either way, you still get some compensation. I’ll take you out to a cup of coffee or whatever it is you fancy.
And I just realized I was wrong in blaming different computers for my inability in putting things down. It has nothing to do with computers, it just dawned on me that I got most of my thinking done in the shower. Long shower, elaborate post. No shower, no post.
Or a picture gets uploaded.