>>> Doesn't matter...

... if you don't say it outright.

I can hear it in your tone and the things you say. The way you compare me to everyone else around us. In the way you treat all others differently.

I'm not in the same situation as everyone else. In fact, I'm NOT everyone else, I'm ME. I'm DIFFERENT. But, no, you still treat the whole thing as if I had the most normal lifestyle and upbringing in the world, like I had the same path as everyone else.

Ha!

Like REAL.

I'm so disconnected from people that I don't belong to ANY group, I just flit from group to group like I don't tangibly exist, even IF I do happen to like entertaining people. SO, I have to be alone at the end of the day with no one to turn to. But, guess what? I don't like being alone. In fact, I hate it. But would you understand? Oh, no, you wouldn't!

That would be such weakness to you, wouldn't it. Like how I'm weak all over, a failure and a disappointment, with my multitude of flaws, phobias, allergies and whatnot.

Unlike the other two, who are such bright stars in your eyes, perfect in every way.

Joy, joy, bully for them.

It doesn't matter what I do or say or anything, I'll never amount to anything in your eyes.

You don't even think that I'll get a place in any of the Unis that I'm applying for, do you? You probably even think that it's a waste of time helping me with anything 'coz I don't do anything for you. That everything that I do is a right that you possess and expect from me. So, I have no rights; I'm not a being who's entitled to his feelings, negative or otherwise. And who is to [or can] be blamed for everything that doesn't go right.

I'm always wrong, you're always right.

After all, I'm such a failure.

Aren't I?

>>> Getting inked...

... is like exorcising demons.

After all that delicious pain from the tattooist's needle penetrating your skin a dozen dozen over times within the span of a few seconds, the joy of seeing your freshly inked but raw and swollen flesh and the satisfaction of viewing the end-product, something that will always be an indelible part of you, inscribed into the depths of your epidermis and holds so much meaning and beauty within it.

Gorgeous scar tissue.

*dreamy sighs and fluttering eyes*

You feel lighter, too, like your burdens have been lifted from your shoulders, and your head's filled with euphoric helium, like you're floating on clouds and not walking upon hard pavement. You can't help but smile with silliness and joy.

But then again, it could be just the blood loss and body chemicals talking.

*laughs*

Yes, I have had my fourth tattoo carved into my flesh by a fine detail needle and an awesomely quick but efficient Louis of Lovesick Tattoos. And at a really strange hour, way after the sun had gone down and when the nocturnal denizens of this city-state were starting to come out of the concrete-work. But that's when it was done, under a moonlit sky within formed cement walls... Sometimes, I wonder if I would be better off having a nightjob somewhere. I seem to be more active at night, for some strange reason. But then, I do fall asleep at night, so I'm not sure how that would work out in the end.

*shrugs nonchalantly*

Go figure.

I'm still a helluva lot happier after my fourth inking.

My wallet's hurting, but I'm still happy.

Seriously.

Go figure.

Again.