How would you feel if your life story was written on your skin for all to see? All there is on my skin is words. Every day I trace them with my fingers. Hoping one day they’ll disappear. I’ll be normal again. Happy again…

The last time I was happy was the last time I believed a promise. Then the words appeared.

“Don’t believe promises; that’s how your heart gets broken.”

“Sorry… I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…”

“Worthless! Stop being so difficult!!”

Everything from advice to the worst thoughts about myself — they all appear.

But nothing positive. All the positivity gets washed away with my tears as day in and day out my body fills up with words. The only way to get rid of them is to write. When I write, the words disappear. When I write, I feel happy…

But now they’re appearing too fast. Too many words. Not enough time. I can’t keep up with them.

Soon I will run out of space. What then? What will happen to me when my skin is so full of ink unknown to the whole of mankind? 

I tried to cut them out… They just came back bigger. Bolder. Darker. 

I can never get rid of the words on my skin. Everyone’s body tells a story. Mine even more-so.

What will the story say when they find me, drowning in tears. Alone in my only sanctuary for my final breath.

Alone with my words…