I really don't know what I think I'm doing with this blog. Half the time I don't even remember I still have this, which is good I guess, since taking too much pressure was why I stopped writing this last year. I'm just kind of lost and it's also hard to write anything nowadays because I don't have an O on my keyboard. (My brother broke it by throwing a chocolate bar at me. He missed. The rest is history.)
Anyways, I think I want to start writing about less serious things again. I'm not gonna start posting random pictures of what I eat and wear again (we have Instagram for that, don't we?) but I like writing and I want to write about things that make me happy or confused or angry or amused. Right now I'm happy that I'm going shopping for the first time in ages on Saturday (with a few amazing girls). I'm confused by all of my coursework and deadlines and books to read. I'm angry that it's so cold outside because I love summer and I'm still hoping that maybe winter stops existing this year. I'm amused in advance by the fact that Mom and I will try to carve a pumpkin lantern tonight.
But right now I also wanna tell you about my first tattoo. There's a story behind it and it's long as fuck and most of you have probably already read it on Instagram a few weeks ago but I wanna share it again, because I love my tattoo and it honestly means the world to me. I want everyone to see it because it's awesome. Here we go.
(It's a bad, unedited pic but that's my tattoo. In case you didn't figure that out yet.) Every time I see the ink on my skin, I smile. No kidding. And the story? Let's skip to the very beginning.