Why does it have to be so hard, I don’t know? If I could go back in time, I would fight all my battles, I would study, do my homework, I would go out less with my friends and stay more with the family. But maybe it was like that. Each time things take a different path but at the end the result are always the same. That i am not doing well, that the things I like are not going well, things are not fitting into place, I should just like it the other way.
Instead I like skulls. Human skulls, skeletons: it drives me crazy; it has that “kick ass”, or that bad look. They have a sense that reminds me of something. I like them and how they are made and that’s it. I have made a decision for my life. Maybe it’s true, I should have waited a few years to do it, fifteen was young but I did it. I tattooed my entire forearm, with black and white skulls biting each other, all blurred, with empty eye sockets and flames as eyeballs. They’re all skulls of humans but each one has different teeth those of sharks, those of vampires. The latest one, on my wrist has tentacles in place of the jaw. Wicked. One of the guys at my school did it for me. I paid 300 euros, I used all my new shoe money. I skipped school, it took four hours this morning at his home and now here it is.
While getting the tattoo done, I thought about the jobs I lost, all the girls I would have met, how many people I could have known but I alienated myself. At the end the decision was stupid, I did it because I like it. Every decision has a result and consequence; there is no other way around it.
This is my life. This is what I chose. Except now I have absolutely no idea how to deal with it. I followed instinct, without listening to my conscience, common sense and all those voices that speak from within. Now however no one speaks, only between smartphones, walking away seems the best idea, also if I don’t know where I’m going.
It’s hard to describe how I feel when my father stops the Bmw suddenly, crosses the road without looking, in this moment I turn to stone, feel fear, dismay, all together and staying there without being able to do anything. My father embraces me. I start crying. “Oh my god, only if you knew what I’ve done. You know I have dirtied my hands, that I could never make clean again?” “NO, DAVID” he said “I DON’T KNOW, BUT I DON’T GIVE A SHIT, I WAS SCARED… ALL DAY I HAVE BEEN LOOKING FOR YOU, YOUR MOTHER HAS BEEN CRYING SINCE MIDDAY… I JUST WANT YOU TO BE ALL RIGHT, AND NOW YOU ARE HERE WITH ME… OH GOD, DAVID NEVER DO THAT AGAIN, YOU ARE MY BABY…” and a thousand other things, I listen and while I watch my father cry. Maybe I’m crying too. People look at us, I embrace my father and we are at home, I am here with him.
We get in the car, he drives, smiles and we don’t say a word to each other. As you’re comfortable here in the hot weather, seated, feeling hungry but it’s okay, I’m good that I just look out the car window. In the dark with yellow and orange lights playing on the window, flowing away fast , while the car accelerates, pushing me back on the leather seats. This is my seat, the most comfortable place in the world. What I have on my arm is maybe a mistake, probably it is. This is life, we are not at school; there does not exist a rubber that can erase this mark, it’s indelible. But maybe it’s better that way, because of all the mistakes I made at school, the only ones I remember are the ones I made in pen, those black spots scribbled in rough on a white sheet with straight lines all in order. Maybe it’s the same thing for these kinds of mistakes. When I grow up ill watch the arm, before telling me how beautiful the skulls are, I will one day have a son and do the same what my father did for me.
Federico