Done at Big Kahuna Tattoo Shop in Burlington, Ontario.
So this is my first tattoo, and maybe the most meaningful I’ll ever get. My followers on my blog know my story, but for those who don’t, I’ll explain. And I won’t go on and make it a sob story, even though I suppose it is. I’ll just keep it simple. I’m sixteen and gay (or actually I’m more like a five on the Kinsey scale but whatever). I decided I could trust my two best friends with this information because…well. You trust your best friends, especially those who have been around for over five years. But, no. No, one of them (I won’t get into who) thought it would be a good idea to tell the entire school population, and then leave me in the dust. The other slowly drifted away and stopped speaking to me as well. Now I’m not one to lie to people. Just because I didn’t exactly plan on telling the whole world, doesn’t mean I’m ashamed of who I am or how I feel. So I knew that when the shit storm came, I wouldn’t go around preaching about it, just answer with a simple yes if asked if I’m gay. Simple. But, no. No, the looks started the next day. It started out with people staring, then it moved up to judging, then glaring. I became the most hated person in school without me even knowing. Oh, but I found out soon enough. I mean, what with the names and the scrawled stuff on the bathroom stalls. And then on Formspring (if you have that, delete it right now, it’s masochistic) I got so much hate I deleted it. So then I lost everyone else. Friends, acquaintances, people who spoke to me. I walked through the halls and got ‘accidentally’ shoved into lockers. And it’s not like I could exactly tell my family, as my mother was usually drunk off her ass, and my father and step mom are worse than the kids at school. So I kept it to myself. And I’ve always had an anxiety disorder, struggled with depression as well. So naturally, that got worse. And then there’s my self harm. I don’t even remember when that started, maybe years ago, but it’s always been an issue I’ve struggled with. So that went right off the deep end. I couldn’t walk through school without being harassed, and I sat alone at lunch getting stared at, and hell yes it wore down on me. So I got pretty fucked up. I started cutting more, started to curl into myself, couldn’t remember the last time I smiled. I stopped going to school, too scared of facing it. I missed like a month because I just couldn’t go. I hated it. And so, without sounding like a terrible cliché movie plot, I tried to end it. I took a bunch of sleeping pills and never wanted to wake up. But, no. I woke up, and while I was sick, I was still alive and that was both good and bad. A reality check, for sure. I needed to sort my life out. So, I did the only thing I knew could make me happy. I listened to music. I downloaded hundreds of songs and blasted them at all times, got a new I-pod and permanently had headphones in my ears. It helped me more than I could imagine. My mood went back up, and I didn’t notice the shit at school so much, as I was so focused on finding new music. I started writing more fanfiction, started talking to people on tumblr. Actually, that’s how I met my long distance girlfriend. I still struggled, hell, I still am struggling. But I got a bit better. I wasn’t so scared, so worried, so depressed. I managed to get a hold on myself. So yes, I essentially owe my life to music. Without it, there’s no doubt I would have tried again to off myself, and probably succeeded. In the end, I still have no friends, I still cut and I have to do some school courses over the summer, but. But, I’m alive, and I’m finally able to feel happy. Which is huge.
So naturally, I got this tattoo as a reminder that if I’m spiralling down again, all I have to do is pop in my ear phones, blast some Coldplay or Ed Sheeran or OneRepublic, and I’ll be fine.
(Okay so this totally did end up sappy and stupid but you know what, I’ve earned that.)