The stories on my skin
- Reads 155
- Votes 8
- Parts 4
The stories on my skin sit perfectly, unable to move, impossible to get rid of, just how they are in my memory, I'm different to most people, I'm not "pure" my skin is inked with stories that I have never told anyone and didn't think anyone would be able to figure out, until he came along, the true beauty, the man that figured out every puzzle, he solved every riddle, and he was just like me, he too felt alone on a room full of people, because none of those people understood his pain.
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There's no such thing as normal. I know that better than anyone. For the first 11 years of my life, I enjoyed living in blissful ignorance of my true identity, and was able to do things that any "normal" person would do. Now? I can't walk down the street without having something go horribly wrong. And all of that trouble is due to my absent mother, my knack for finding myself in problematic situations, and a tattoo on my wrist. Ever wanted to be a super warrior fighter? Well, I assure you, it's a lot more trouble than it seems.
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