I hear tattoos are supposed to increase your self-worth. Something about choosing an image to remain permanent on your skin for the rest of your life is said to–I don’t know–increase your oxytocin levels or something of that matter. I can likely say I won’t ever get a tattoo. Why? Because I can never imagine marring my skin like that. No image is better than the real image. No message is better than the one seen in plain sight. So why on earth do people get tattoos?
The same reason people smoke. The same reason hipsters stretch ghastly holes in their earlobes. The same reason I deliberately wave to the person behind the stranger walking toward me. To feel badass, or important. Haven’t you ever done that? If not, then perhaps you should test it out. It’s quite powerful, and in all honesty I do it for fun. The person just about jerks when they see you waving, and their eyes get a little testy before they flush and realize it wasn’t for them. They lower their heads and walk on past as if nothing happened.
Perhaps that is quite crude for me to do. But I do get bored. What’s a girl to do when she forgets to bring her novel from home?
I enjoy mind games. They entertain me on my long walks to school and back. For about forty mins, I can make people look where I want them to look, make people do double-takes with an odd face, make people point a finger back at themselves in confusion. In a city that walks everywhere, it’s hardly likely you’ll ever see that stranger again. And by the time you reach home, it’s a ephemeral moment lost in your time-stream. And theirs. Least that’s how I rationalize it.
I’m quite the prankster, obviously.
If self-worth was that cheap, we’d live in a manic world.
Wait a second…we already do.