Ink

I really like where I am right now.
Not experience wise, because I can always learn more, but the situation I'm in right now is really pleasant.

I've jumped from situation to situation as a kid a lot. From having friends to be beaten and bullied. From knowing exactly what I want to do with my life to wishing my life would hurry up and be over with.
Some of these variable aren't going anywhere. Some days, I'm going to be cussed out and made fun of. Some days, I'm going to wish I could shrivel up and disappear, but when you have something really steady and constant going, it's like a reminder to keep going. It's like when someone takes a pen and writes on your hand. Maybe that someone is your parents, or grandparents, or friend, or sibling, or your favorite cat, or maybe that someone has to be you. You'll read the writing on your hand, you'll take a big, deep breath, and you'll read it again.

"Keep going."

And maybe the writing on your hand doesn't say that directly. Maybe it says "call me when you're finished" or "text me what you want for dinner" or "feed the cat" or your crush's number, or a simple "we need to catch up" or really anything. It's a message that when skimmed over means little to nothing. But when it's really read, it reads "keep going". Because when you don't know what happens or what to do next, you have that little note. It tells you what happens next, even if it insures that security for mere moments, it's still there. The undertone is that your future is still out there. You have to keep going to fulfill that message.
Right now, and if that makes any sense, my hand reads, in baby blue and light pink ink:

"I need you right now. My face is very itchy and I need you to itch my face."

It's sloppily written and it runs off to the back of my hand. I would explain the message and what it means, but it literally means that the writer's face is very itchy and he needs to rub his face on my entire body.

The author of this message is my horse, Mister, by the way.

Actually, this entire entry is dedicated to Mister.

But that's written on my hand because Mister needs me right now. He doesn't have any fingers, so he can't scratch his big face himself, so I have to go out to the barn and let him rub his face on the entirety of my body. At the end of the day, I'm covered in little, teensy hairs.

My point is, Mister is insuring that stability in my life for a while. He's going to keep writing sloppy notes on my hand to remind me that he is, infact, a very needy drama queen that I have to devote all of my free time to. Scratch that, I want to devote all my free time to him.

So, I ended the lease. That chapter of my life is over and it should have been done with a long time ago.


Instead, I'm signing ownership papers.

Welcome to the family, Mister. I'll get you more pens. Just as long as you keep writing.