Tattoos – permanent markings in different shapes, different sizes and all with different meanings. To some they express individuality, to others they’re about groups of friends and youth. Tattoos sometimes have names: the person's mother, their lover, their dog. Some have pictures: roses, flowers, skulls, bones, dragons, ladies, you name it. All of them are permanent.

My tattoo is of a different sort, self-inflicted, reminding me of a time when I was alone, and sickness was spreading through my mind. How desperate I was to move on, to shed this mortal world for one of everlasting peace. When I look down I can almost see on my wrist the drying blood, smell the hospital, and feel the charcoal being pumped into my stomach. I was so hurt, so alone, so afraid. But life went on and I was still in it. The wounds of flesh, spirit, and mind healed with time and help. All that is left is the tattoo to remind me, through hard times, that I am a survivor, and tangible proof that there is:

Life after pain.