Saying Goodbye

So, today, as I promised myself, I did two huge things.

I got my hair highlighted. This may not seem like such a big deal, but for me, it was. I'd never done anything to my hair before, other than getting it cut. I'd always been one of those people who frowned upon artificial colors (I think it's from being in Catholic School my whole life and hearing, 'Nothing but your God-given color!' one too many times). I liked how highlights and different hair colors looked on other people, but not on me. But how could I really know what it would look like on me? I didn't, really, and I finally decided that I was sick of wondering. I wanted to actually get it done. So, I got red highlights. They're so subtle, you can barely notice them at first glance. If you sift through the layers of my now choppy hair (<3), you'll find lots of red streaks in strategic places. Especially underneath. It's like a little surprise whenever I pull my hair up -- a shock of red. And I love that.

Secondly, I got a tattoo. After 7 years of deciding what I wanted, I've finally gotten one. I almost backed out as I drove there with my brother. As we parked the cars (we drove separately), I felt my hands shaking. Walking inside, I could hear the buzz of the tattoo needle and I felt my stomach leap. The artists were how I expected them to look - covered in ink with a hint of a stand-up comic and biker who may or may not kick your ass after he keys your car. I signed the papers and felt my hands going numb. I gave them the picture and looked at how big I wanted it. They were all ridiculously nice. As I walked behind the small gate they had, I froze. The artist who'd be doing mine joked around, "I could throw the ink at you, hope it lands in some kind of pattern." I laughed nervously as I made my way past the empty leather chairs and towards his.

I felt awkward, sitting in the chair with most of my shirt up. Suddenly, I was more self-conscious over the fact that they'd seen what color bra I was wearing that day (red and white polka dots, just so you know). He explained to me what he was going to do, how to sit, how to hold my shirt, and told me to keep breathing. The buzzing of the needle started and I could feel the metal in my skin.

I finally understand what people say when they say that the pain's addicting. It didn't hurt nearly as much as I thought it would, especially considering the location (at the back of the neck, below the shirt line). He asked me if I was doing all right and when I explained that I was, he shouted to my brother, who was sitting on the bench on the other side of the counter, "I don't know, bro, she's tough. She could kick your ass, I think." I said that I'm too short to kick his ass. He replied, "Just go for the nuts!... Sorry, man." This was, of course, after he'd called my brother my "man," assuming that we were dating. When I quickly quipped back with, "He's my brother!" he laughed and said, "Wow, you didn't even hesitate. You had that one ready."

So, I'm saying goodbye.

I'm saying goodbye to who I was. I'm saying goodbye to the girl who cried herself to sleep because she didn't know where she belonged. I'm saying goodbye to the girl who stared at herself in the mirror, wishing she knew which parent she looked like. I'm saying goodbye to the girl who wished for sleep because it didn't hurt as much as being awake. I'm saying goodbye to the girl who contemplated taking her life by her own hand because she was tired of being brave. I'm saying goodbye to the girl who was always looking at her life for what it didn't have, rather than loving what she did.

I'm saying goodbye to that girl, and I'm saying hello to who I am and who I will become.

- May (you know when it's time to leave it all behind).