I have a word written across my forearm right now, the navy blue Sharpie faded and disappearing. It’s even and straight, inking my skin purposefully, where I can see it.
A few days ago, my five-year-old cousin stopped me. “What’s that on your arm?” she asked me.
“Just something I wrote.”
“What does it say?”
“Why does it say that?”
I just shrugged and smiled, and she prattled on about something else. It was easier to let her move on than try to explain. I wasn’t even sure if I knew what I was trying to say by tattooing myself with that little word.
I picked up my marker and put it there the other day, after reading a blog post written by my friend Jodi. Her words really made me stop and think. “I don’t want to. I. Have. To. Change.”
I’m a very passive person. I, by nature, just let things happen. I don’t really fight for my freedoms or make efforts to participate in certain activities. Thinking about it, I realize the only reason I don’t participate in a lot of the things my friends do is that it’s simply not convenient for me.
I don’t watch TV because no one in my family does. I don’t have a Facebook because my parents aren’t keen on it. I don’t listen to the music my friends do because I have the bands I listen to, and looking for or screening other bands is not the way I chose to spend my free time, when I have it.
Could I do these things? Yes. Could I talk my parents into letting me do some stuff I typically don’t? Maybe.
It’s not like I don’t care… it’s more that I just let things go. I’m passive. It’s fine as long as I’m content and everyone around me is happy.