but isn't this how it's always been? anytime the filth gets to be too much, i release a little of it (consciously or unconsciously) and then i'm fine. i wonder why that is... why must my flaws take physical form? i should set up some road cones and wear yellow police tape... wouldn't that be easier?
body modification... ha, i guess that would be the politically correct term for it. it's kind of mild, though. i don't know whether i'd call the scars on my army body modification... self mutilation? no, because that makes it sound angry. i wasn't angry. i needed to release the demons again. blood has a funny way of clearing the mind. i dove headfirst into my misery and came out clean.
but i don't really want to talk about that. i think i'll save that skeleton for another time.
and my tattoos! the pain was half the fun, wasn't it? but then i guess they weren't really a *sin* in physical form, just a mindset. i wanted to be branded, marked, imperfect. i'm not pure. my tattoos are a source of pride, though. they help define me, i think, and i like them. and i can't remember what my skin looked like without them. the first chance i get i'm going to go get another one.
any now i feel like i'm talking to a wall. how did this entry suddenly become pointless?
- Dashboard Confessional "Screaming Infidelities" -