Taste of ink.

With th taste of ink, my obsession came back to haunt me. As th poison set in I found myself loving every moment of it.

Little did I realize my addiction for tattoo started when I was just an innocent young kid spending a pathetic sum of 5bux getting myself a stick-on tattoos. I would carefully paste it on my arms or even on my hands. I made sure my sticker tattoos were within th view of all my fellow pre-school mates. Damn those innocent days where my little envious classmates would resort to coloring their arms and hands with magic markers just so they thought they would look as cool as me.

Since then I couldn't help but invest all my piggy-bank money on sticker tattoos from that old shop round th corner. Th old sleazy shopkeeper who made money out of my 'hefty' investment would always shake his head in despair whenever I came around. Soon.... It was my 6th christmas back at Los Angeles with Aunt Molly, I swore I was th happiest kid on earth when I received my very own "Body Paint Kit".

I experimented with th different templates and it wasn't long till I went to school with face paint and butterflies and little stars all over my arms and feet. I fell madly in love with body art. As colorful as I looked... Grammy would always scrub me hard, washing every color off my body. She would cane me and scold me saying "Tattoos are for th gangsters!". That left me crying, I always assured her I was doing it for fun. But no, she wouldn't budge.

As I grew up, falling in and out of love forced me to exchange my obsession for happiness with a partner (then). I thought he was worth giving up my obsession for. But no no no, I was so damn wrong. That bastard knocked me out of my path and soon I went back to square but this time with another obsession with piercings.

I had myself 7 piercings done at one go. Ah, you might have wondered if th gnawing pain had drove me out of my sanity. To be honest, it wasn't th physical hurt but more to th emotional destruction that jerk caused.

Who knew a hero came into my life and pulled me out in time. I swore if I had not met him I would have still gotten my head stuck in that crazy turmoil. I love my partner now. I rly rly love him.
But I don't know why this sick obsession is creeping on me. Pulling me deeper.
I find myself feeling th tingling pain when th needle slowly ink my skin. I sense th deep surge of satisfaction when th cold, cold metal pierce through my skin.

This stupid voice is talling me to get my ink job done soon.
I've never told anyone this but I've always wanted to have tiny petals tattoo-ed down my back. Petals.

Now now now, I am considering to have my eyebrow pierced when I get my pay next month.



I know this confession upsets everyone. But I have from now till pay day to jolt out of reverie.

Save me now or never.