I started on a journey I never thought possible. Having grown up in a small town, in which everyone only saw me as far to different to be accepted. I was never seen as normal. I was never okay to be on sports teams. I was evil. I was The Devil. I began to create my choice of rebelling around that simple thought. I am the devil.
Against what the good book says, if you were to see The Devil haven taken human form, or perhaps to say it still stands as a demon walking down the street. You would feel one of two emotions, or to be bold enough to feel both. One, taken on as aw. You would stare, without notice or mercy, you would stare. Unable to look away due to the unknown image your eyes, as well as brain were trying to register. The Devil itself was walking down the street. And along with feeling unmerciful to impolite behavior, you would begin to feel fear. Fear only standing itself due to what society transfers into our brain, of what the devil is capable of , or what he simply stands for. And for me, that was all i needed. I felt that i could only hold the name if be, i was able to attract both of those traits.
So i began just that.
Tattoos. A trend, a society, and a revolution that has taken over mine and older generations. What we see as beauty and expression, society puts into their minds and feeds the minds of others, so that believed that any tattooed individual is more likely to commit a crime, and be seen as a "hoodlum". That being where fear was held, as well as the staring aspect.
Fear. A tattooed individual brings the thought of someone who would be more likely to commit a crime than the normal vapid particular. Causing more often than not , the upper class yuppy walking down the sidewalk same side as us, to hold onto their purse a little bit tighter and without question, do not make eye contact. Although sad, they fear us. They of course, fear what they do not understand. But that which concludes to them having fear, and no room for open minded acceptance. They fear the devil.
Than there is the verb so lightly put as staring. oggling. rubber neck. Any term which could describe the person in the direct view path of you, being unable to look away. We are the devil, and of course that means we are something to stare at.
So as i put, and tried to make clear. That was the persona i took on. Covering myself in tattoos that were visible and bright, with the intention of creating art on the open canvas i call my body. But creating a head turning art show, that caused every little girl and boy to tug on their parents jeans, look up with their bright, naive eyes, and ask so sweetly "why does she color on herself?". Now with an answer from each parent being unknown, some may say due to the city I live in, (Portland, Oregon being known as a liberal city, which is extremely misinterpreted ), that a parent would smile and describe what the bright colors covering my legs and arms were. They would perhaps show off what they had hidden until this moment, their own small tattoo on their ankle or back. Describing what it meant, perhaps standing for the child who had the question to stand for.
But I can imagine only what i have known for so long. The scene plays so perfectly within my wild and misunderstood brain. Wearing nothing promiscuous or unacceptable to average society, i would pass by the family. The child, blond hair, so curious would tug on their parents pant leg, and ask only the same question as the wildly diverse family from before. Only to find a reaction i like to imagine. "Why does she color on herself mamma?" , the mother would grab her child's hand, pull her closer, and gasp saying "That, my child, is The Devil. Fear them, and never aspire to be like her."
I smirk, I am the Devil.
Against what the good book says, if you were to see The Devil haven taken human form, or perhaps to say it still stands as a demon walking down the street. You would feel one of two emotions, or to be bold enough to feel both. One, taken on as aw. You would stare, without notice or mercy, you would stare. Unable to look away due to the unknown image your eyes, as well as brain were trying to register. The Devil itself was walking down the street. And along with feeling unmerciful to impolite behavior, you would begin to feel fear. Fear only standing itself due to what society transfers into our brain, of what the devil is capable of , or what he simply stands for. And for me, that was all i needed. I felt that i could only hold the name if be, i was able to attract both of those traits.
So i began just that.
Tattoos. A trend, a society, and a revolution that has taken over mine and older generations. What we see as beauty and expression, society puts into their minds and feeds the minds of others, so that believed that any tattooed individual is more likely to commit a crime, and be seen as a "hoodlum". That being where fear was held, as well as the staring aspect.
Fear. A tattooed individual brings the thought of someone who would be more likely to commit a crime than the normal vapid particular. Causing more often than not , the upper class yuppy walking down the sidewalk same side as us, to hold onto their purse a little bit tighter and without question, do not make eye contact. Although sad, they fear us. They of course, fear what they do not understand. But that which concludes to them having fear, and no room for open minded acceptance. They fear the devil.
Than there is the verb so lightly put as staring. oggling. rubber neck. Any term which could describe the person in the direct view path of you, being unable to look away. We are the devil, and of course that means we are something to stare at.
So as i put, and tried to make clear. That was the persona i took on. Covering myself in tattoos that were visible and bright, with the intention of creating art on the open canvas i call my body. But creating a head turning art show, that caused every little girl and boy to tug on their parents jeans, look up with their bright, naive eyes, and ask so sweetly "why does she color on herself?". Now with an answer from each parent being unknown, some may say due to the city I live in, (Portland, Oregon being known as a liberal city, which is extremely misinterpreted ), that a parent would smile and describe what the bright colors covering my legs and arms were. They would perhaps show off what they had hidden until this moment, their own small tattoo on their ankle or back. Describing what it meant, perhaps standing for the child who had the question to stand for.
But I can imagine only what i have known for so long. The scene plays so perfectly within my wild and misunderstood brain. Wearing nothing promiscuous or unacceptable to average society, i would pass by the family. The child, blond hair, so curious would tug on their parents pant leg, and ask only the same question as the wildly diverse family from before. Only to find a reaction i like to imagine. "Why does she color on herself mamma?" , the mother would grab her child's hand, pull her closer, and gasp saying "That, my child, is The Devil. Fear them, and never aspire to be like her."
I smirk, I am the Devil.
TO START WITH WHAT I KNOW...
There is not much to me. I can say that and a simple second later, i would sigh, giggle slightly than say "Well thats kind of a lie." My life, just as everyone elses, is made up of so much, an autobiography would go on for ages. So i must choose wisely to be so bold as to describe myself to make an understanding of those who know so little. I do not wish to describe my family. Not only because there isnt really a way to describe them into depth, but also because there is a lot about my childhood and family that i have not come to accept or "come to terms" with yet. I in no way had a horrible childhood of abuse and neglect (well to a certain point), but lets just say that i didnt live a cookie cutter life on the inside. So, at that i will describe , easily, my family. I have a mother , a father and two brothers. They all are their own person which play a role in the life i have created, and some which choose not to be a part of the life i have created. The rest, my loves, is something i have not yet found the desire to share .
So, with that that basics are what is to be told. I was born in LA county, and was soon after moved into a small town called Smith Valley, located in Nevada. Although this town, years later, became my enemy and a hole i thought i would never excape, it was ideal. My parents never had to worry, everyone was friendly, and everyone knew everyone. I went to a small school, K-12 all on 1 campus, 3 buildings, and about 200 kids throughout the entire school. I had the same teachers as my brothers, I had the same friends all throughout elementary, middle school and high school, with the occasional additions and tears for those who left. I loved elementary, was unsure of middle school (just as every teenage girl finds themselves) and i hated high school more than i thought possible. Ive never been one to fit in, or one to keep quiet. So that town, at that, was not meant for my older years.
If i were to take the time to try to describe each and every event that built up to who i am today, you would one be in aw, and two tire your eyes of reading. So at that i shall say, i rebelled and did things that teenagers perhaps shouldnt do. I rebelled against my mother, who at the time was the only one raising me. I rebelled against my school, my teachers, the students. I took every chance i could possibly get to make sure that everyone knew i wasnt one of them. Because i wasnt.
There was a lot that lead me to where i am today, experiences, lessons, losses, loves. But that is nothing i like to dwell on. There are only certain points in my life that i choose to touch. And that....is where i will go.
So, with that that basics are what is to be told. I was born in LA county, and was soon after moved into a small town called Smith Valley, located in Nevada. Although this town, years later, became my enemy and a hole i thought i would never excape, it was ideal. My parents never had to worry, everyone was friendly, and everyone knew everyone. I went to a small school, K-12 all on 1 campus, 3 buildings, and about 200 kids throughout the entire school. I had the same teachers as my brothers, I had the same friends all throughout elementary, middle school and high school, with the occasional additions and tears for those who left. I loved elementary, was unsure of middle school (just as every teenage girl finds themselves) and i hated high school more than i thought possible. Ive never been one to fit in, or one to keep quiet. So that town, at that, was not meant for my older years.
If i were to take the time to try to describe each and every event that built up to who i am today, you would one be in aw, and two tire your eyes of reading. So at that i shall say, i rebelled and did things that teenagers perhaps shouldnt do. I rebelled against my mother, who at the time was the only one raising me. I rebelled against my school, my teachers, the students. I took every chance i could possibly get to make sure that everyone knew i wasnt one of them. Because i wasnt.
There was a lot that lead me to where i am today, experiences, lessons, losses, loves. But that is nothing i like to dwell on. There are only certain points in my life that i choose to touch. And that....is where i will go.