I'm not sure if its a psychological thing, or just plain old writer funk, I've been struggling to come up with stories. Then I jumped into NaNoWriMo with little to no preparation so I'm struggling to reach my daily word count on that.
This pretty much sums up the night I had with my cousins (minus a lot of details), I honestly thought I was going to get a tattoo that night. Didn't get one but ended up promising my cousin that I'd get one, and if its bad she can fix it next year when she comes back or add on to it (she's a tattoo artist).
Seeing her made me realize that I haven't been home in almost six years.
Enjoy this bad decision night.
*picture is originally from http://abstract.desktopnexus.com/wallpaper/836435/
05/12/2014 (Tuesday)- One of Those Nights
It was one of those near-winter nights, walking down dark streets by Clearwater Beach, our belly’s full of drink and fire in our blood.
It was a bad decision night.
We were looking for a tattoo parlor still open as we were walking and talking. My cousin telling us about her trip from the Philippines to New York to here. Last time I saw her she was four—or was it six?—I listen as she updates us about her life: the changes, the pain, the miscarriage, her dreams.
The tattoo parlors were closed.
It was a bad decision night.
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