Through many years of tattooing the memorable, the impulsive, and the stupid on my body, I tend to forget that I have them, even though I technically see them every day.
Every now and again, I like to do a tattoo review where I return to the site of each tattoo, reminding myself of why I got them and what the story was behind each piece. They blend in so well to my perception of my skin that I forget sometimes that once upon a time, I was some former age and I found something that meant a lot to me so I had it tattooed. And that that version of myself had her future self in mind while getting the tattoos, sending off a faraway message in a bottle, waving a twinkling greeting from forevers ago.
I carry her with me everywhere I go.