Chiselling time at the edges, time itself that is, actually chipping away at it to make events and things fit in, rather than time to begin chiselling. Is what I have been doing.
I think I can confidently say that when I began to harm myself, I never thought I'd be in an educational DVD on the subject, imparting my insights and my odd thoughts, and I also never thought that DVD would be filmed on primrose hill, or that I would get there on crutches.
But there you are- these things happen over an inevitable unfolding of time, a bit like the slow deconstruction of a complex origami model, unfolding part by unexpectedly complex part.
In the increasingly chilly wind, sat on the grass among daisies, I explained how tattoos outline my body and define me and in that way they are more important to me than any "fashion statement". They state my name in pictures, who I am, written on me in indelible ink, they don't make me an individual, but they confirm that I am here, I am solid, the fact that I can permanently mark my physical self confirms that. Self harm is different. Its violent. It gets out what is inside and the marks left state nothing but distress. Its not pretty, its not just a weird habit, its a coping mechanism thats a bit on the extreme side. Tattoos are for decoration. End of.
No comments:
Post a Comment