Believe.

Sooo impulse won and I got the tattoo. On 2/16/2016 at 2:16 pm, I sat in the chair and it all began. Being one who was born on a date that was the square of the month number, I of course had an obsession with dates. It was too far for my birthday to come along so why not a close day that somewhat was special (it was either that day or the 29th since it was leap year) Anyways, after sitting in the chair, in 10 minutes, it was over. It took even longer to prep the tattoo from the design I drew (first pic) to the editing and printing of the design onto a carbon copy kind of paper to putting the template on my wrist (second pic). It didn’t hurt like I expected it to be. It just felt like strong tingly vibrations as she just drew the design once slowly. My hand felt like it was still vibrating afterwards but it wasn’t painful. (third pic) It’s been healing quite nicely, flaking and a bit itchy. We’ll see how it turns out.

As coincidental as it could be, the day before was another day to remember. It was one of those scares where I was just numb from the shock and unable to control my emotions (partially why the tattoo was not painful in my opinion). My dad was exercising and overexerted himself and when he got off the stationary bike, he walked over to the sink and collapsed. He slipped in and out of unconsciousness and my brother had to hold him up. Unlike last time where he had chest pain where I was able to drive him to the emergency and stay controlled, I had another experience with someone fainting and I think it just set it off. Last time was when I was at work and someone had fainted and almost died. I think that was why it hit me so hard. Seeing him limp and unconsciousness, not responding to us, unable to do anything about it. Thankfully he came about and was alright after all. But it was traumatizing and I really hope that he would take better care of himself and be more careful knowing his condition. Now he can’t even do moderate exercise and it pains me to think that the next time he might have a heart attack or just not wake up from unconsciousness the next time. To think of losing him brings on the bucketfuls of tears because I’m not ready yet. If these scare attacks are supposed to prepare me to accept that he may have something serious someday that may take him away from me, I don’t want it. As immature as it sounds. I honestly don’t think I can handle it, even as much as I can believe or try to believe. I guess that’s why having the tattoo done the day after made it even more important of a reminder, to believe. To believe in myself, to believe in brighter days, to believe that in the end, it’ll be okay.


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