• I hate tattoos

    by  • August 15, 2013 • * Safe for Work *, Heartbreak • 0 Comments

    Ever since I saw your tattoo, it left an impression. I promised myself I would never date a guy with tattoos, and yours is absolutely stupid no matter how you try to justify it (and there are a million ways you do). And you want more! And it drives me nuts.
    A million things you do drive me nuts– the way you take over the radio in my car, or my computer to play music I hate, when not even people who play music I like– not even my actual boyfriends– get that kind of privilege. The way you say things with an intention that I am supposed to understand but that never actually comes through, or when you don’t think things through completely and the intention you give off is 100% opposite what you really want to tell me. And we’re safety pinned together and I can’t help that, so I live with it all. And then you disappeared, and came back with HER, after you knew about everything– about how I felt and you were so insensitive and dismissive. It’s not fair– I’ve been the one here fulfilling all your needs for you, standing out in the cold in February wearing a skirt and tights– my legs practically bare– trying to make you feel better. And carrying oreos around so when you’re grumpy you can eat. And making you chicken noodle soup when you’re sick. Coming in and working my butt off when I was sick and should have been sleeping in bed. Working on an injury. And doing all the driving back and forth. And she can just waltz into our lives and suddenly that’s all that matters.
    You gave me my first tattoo and I hate it– you tattooed yourself on my heart. And I hate that tattoo too.

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