Deep Breaths

Hello

Ok so here's the deal. I'm antisocial as fuck. And I don't mean it like "ooh Im a shy little girl". I have major issues with people. I despise crowded places, I despise engaging in conversations with people. And I loathe speaking to anybody but myself. I know you need a certain amount of basic human interaction to be considered a sane person but I've been doing pretty great without any for the past 3 years.
When I was living with my parents, I really did not have a choice but to talk to them when they talked to me. Thankfully they weren't very talkative people themselves and it was a very quiet household, with me being an only child and my Mother and Father being workaholics.
Don't get me wrong, my folks were as good as they come. They fed me, clothed me, gave me an education all the while giving me SPACE, which is all I really ask of anybody. Silently of course. I'm not gonna say it out loud are you kidding me?
So you might think I would have been bullied pretty hard in high school, me being; the weirdo who never speaks to a soul, the outcast, the socially challenged. This may come as a shocker to y'all but the kids at my school were relatively decent. They minded their own business and there really wasn't a whole lot of bullying going on. It also might have helped the fact that both my parents are very well respected doctors in our town. So, even though I had to do projects and presentations and all that crap at school- which gave me serious anxiety by the way and that's a whole another story-I survived it mostly unscathed.
So coming back to the present, I moved out of my home a year after I finished high school. I was never interested in college and my parents never forced college on me.
So I skipped town and moved to the city, got myself a job at a small but decent tattoo parlour. I have always been interested in art and drawing and tattoos and granted I am pretty good at it, so they hired me for an apprenticeship.
What I like most about the job is that most people who comes in for tattoos are warned off beforehand by the receptionist/coworker not to converse with me and they don't, which actually helps me tolerate them when they're sitting in my chair for their tattoo.
What doesn't help with them being quiet is if my skin is showing when my clients come in. You really wouldn't expect your tattoo artist to look like me, 5 '4, shoulder length wavy dark brown hair, in a white crop top, black shorts and loafers with no tattoos whatsoever on their body. Most tattoo artists have their arms and neck and everywhere covered. So naturally, they definitely do not miss the chance to ask me why I don't have any tattoos and sometimes downright refuse to get inked by me. I learned my lesson after the third time so, I now cover all my skin to work.
Maybe it bothers people that I'm holding the gun with the ink thats gonna go into their skin causing them a relatively good amount of bleeding and pain; while I myself have never been through it.
Maybe they think I look like a child because I've been told I don't look a day older than 16 when I'm actually 22.
It really is a big deal to some people but I don't see what the huge problem is. It's not like I'm never gonna get one I just haven't gotten one yet. It's basically the same thing as saying your gynaecologist must have a vagina, or your hair dresser cannot be bald, or that- you get my point.
So like I said, I cover up now and dress in full black because black gives me confidence and it's edgy and it takes away any teen features I have. And matched with black lipstick and black boots? I look like I can fucking cut a bitch. My regulars love it, and my newer clients don't need to know shit.
It has become my uniform to work while I keep rotating between the limited amount of black clothes that I own. I free myself from all the edginess as soon as I get home, by wearing nothing but pink sweats and matching tank tops. I'm a softie for soft colours and plushy things, its like I have these two sides I cant decide from, gets fucking trying sometimes.
     The best thing about my days are when I get home to my one bedroom apartment where there's absolutely nobody around. The relief it brings me is indescribable. I sing and dance around, make food for myself, catch up on all my shows on Netflix, do chores and read and basically everything you do at home. I just might be the only person in the world who's flying higher than a kite with happiness to always be home alone.
     You probably know by now that I don't have friends, none whatsoever. I get along with the other two girls and my boss at the tattoo parlour but we're not friends. We exchange hey's every day and they only tell me things that I absolutely must know. Like changes in our shifts and whatnot.
     So it's safe to say that I was living my best life. I had a decent job, a decent apartment, privacy and french fries. What more could a girl ask for.

Oh and by the way? My name's Rose.

Let's let the story begin shall we?

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