Wednesday, 03.03,10 - 9:07 pm.
I got my second tattoo yesterday. It says "veni, vidi, vici", one word below the other, on my ribcage. It was excruciatingly painful and I went alone, because my friend Monica was sick.
As I waited around while my tat artist had lunch, I watched New Moon with the people that were hanging out at the shop. That movie isn't a big deal for me but I felt like Bella hanging out with all those beings that were so different from her. I was wearing a dull t-shirt (that'd allow me to get inked without showing too much skin), blue jeans and sneakers. Everyone around me was heavily tattooed/pierced, dressed in a punk-ska fashion, and the only girl there (I'm assuming my tat artist's girlfriend) was covered in make-up and had her hair dyed. She stared at me constantly, I felt she was judging me.
I grabbed a book to keep myself entertained but it didn't work. For starters, it was about torture by the US military in Latin America, Iraq, etc. The depiction of the cases of dissapearing, binding, shooting, beating, raping, hanging, waterboarding and a long etcetera is not exactly what you'd like to read while you're, in the most basic sense of the word, suffering physically. I didn't pay much attention to what I read nor do I remember much about it. Anyway, I know all about it from Zimbardo's "The Lucifer Effect" but it never ceases to amaze me the lenghts humans go to destroy others.
On happier news, it was worth it. It took about an hour and I'm very, very happy with the result. It hurt much more than the first one because the ribcage kept getting drilled (or so it felt), but the skin wasn't so red afterwards and it's healing nicely.
"You took it like a soldier", my tatto artist said.
(I'll admit I was hoping Joseph would see the picture on FB and maybe comment on it like he did on the first one, 10 months ago...he didn't, of course. Thank God, because hearing from him would break down all my hard-earned peace of mind. It was just my wishful thinking)
***
Today I was just changing into my house clothes after coming from work when the doorbell rang and my mom called my name. I asked M (the lovely housekeeper) who it was. It's a guy, he's come before...JC, is it?
Fuck.
JC it was. Truth be told: I was incredibly happy to see him. He was on his way to his mom's restaurant and he decided to stop by and visit me. He came in and we talked for a while about his experiment with rats and his pets. He had a glass of water, he liked my tattoo, we hugged goodbye and that was it.
I was happy. But then I started to get bitter because I must not get happy. Not like that. I'm happy that we still can get along, that he took the time to stop by my house...hell, that he remembered that I am working part-time and so I'm free by noon. But I started to get delusional-happy and that is not healthy for my feelings. He came over, I tell myself, but there's nothing to get hopeful for. He did it out of guilt and because maybe he truly wants our friendship to work. And hey, I want that, too.
A few days ago I discussed with someone that I'll always like JC. And I'll always like Joseph. I've loved these two guys for who they are. Once I loved The Guy, D, 1...for some reasons. I'm not into them anymore. Bring me Joseph, JC...I'm into them because of who and what they are and that's permanent. It hurts that they don't feel the same way about me, that they're not into me. So it's an incredible exercise of strength having feelings for these boys and having them not reciprocate.
I failed at that exercise with Joseph, but because he hurt me too much and I can't get over the pain. I'd endure a tattoo on my ribcage any day over experiencing once again what he did to me. I don't want to fail with JC. I like him, he doesn't like me back, tough luck. Not everybody will love you the way you want them to.
While Jim was in a relationship, I was his surrogate girlfriend. He slept with the woman who held the title, but he did everything else with me. Sexually, he belonged to the other woman�I had him emotionally and mentally. But at the end of the day, Jim went home to his girlfriend and I went home alone. Over time this fact left me feeling baffled and forlorn.Then one day Jim informed me his girlfriend had broken up with him. He wasn�t heartbroken or even sad. In fact he shrugged it off like he�d lost one of his socks. As I had clocked some serious time with Jim, I figured I was next in line to be his card-carrying girlfriend. And yet Jim still did not pursue me, or behave any differently than he had before. He was single and I was single, and still he didn�t choose me. Instead, he continued to talk endlessly about his problems like I was a free therapist. A fake-breakup was in order.
Of course, one can only endure so much of this behavior. But having him at my doorstep today made me appreciate the fact that I never sent him that harsh e-mail that I drafted over and over. Now I can write him less blinded by heartache, still without denying that I'm in pain and yet being able to be good friends again, IF he wants to.
Regardless, I'm probably getting hopeful again. But it's a matter of time before his visit fades away and we go back to being in silence. After all that's what he wants. He doesn't have the time, let alone the feelings, for me. I'll have to learn that the hard way. Again. I'll take it like a soldier, I hope.
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