she drags herself across the room, feeling its weight on her shoulders, before plopping down on her bed, and sitting there for a moment. at first, she does not bother to move, nor to try and find a comfortable position. she takes a moment, appreciates the gravity holding her back. nothing has been bringing her joy lately, or comfort, or even the tiniest bits of distraction. she felt her brain go, pieces of everything and nothing pop up at the same time, but one thing caught her eyes, neon lights blinking in the distance, standing out like a tattoo parlor’s broken sign. it seems like words, but she can not fathom any of them out. 

at once, everything stops. i should get a tattoo . she starts thinking about what she should get, and where would she get it? she ponders upon the colors, and almost can see herself showing it off, when the image shatters. tattoos were her thing. the hint of a smile draws itself on her face, before it turns into muffled sobs, a wave of emotions she has been holding back finds its way out, and the sobs threaten to grow louder, to break through her walls.

she tries not to let it show, but her swollen eyes betray any illusion of false bravery she puts on the next morning. 
 

the first week passes without her saying a word, she pretends everything is fine, and nothing is bothering her. “this is easier than i thought it would be,” she whispers one night, to no one in particular, and it’s not lik