He didn’t even bother to silence the camera sound on his phone.
When it finally did, he got off the elevator and walked away.
He’d violated my privacy in more ways than one.
It just didn’t feel like mine anymore.
to “Why would she do that to herself?”
to finally “What’s wrong with her?”
before people finally work to neutralize their expressions and pretend they didn’t see anything in the first place.
There comes a point at which you realize you no longer want to be constantly confronted by your past.
Go ahead and ask me what they mean.
That is, until I was photographed without permission.
The tattoos haven’t erased all my negative interactions, of course.
Even those I’ve sought help from includingtattoo artists have sometimes been less understanding than I would have liked.
And now they kind of are.
For a list of ways to cope with self-harm urges, clickhere.
