Pink Ribbon Scars That Never Forget...

UPDATE: Due to popular demand, Rachel has agreed to let everyone see her private writings on a journal she has online. Go to ConsonantVowel.livejournal.com if you want to see more. She'd love to hear from you.

I have a friend named Rachel. Rachel is from Birmingham, England. So far, Rachel is NOT the gay. But believe me, y'all, when I tell you, I HAVE tried...so very very hard to change that. *sigh*

So yes, Rachel is a beautiful person inside and out. She recently wrote something on an online journal that is rocking my world right now. It touched me so much that I asked her if I could share it with my readers. I know it wasn't written for a chick, but I think you will all agree that we're all searchin' for a love-slash-happy-obsession like the one Rachel's ready to give out:

It could be good. I could be good, you know? That's the frustrating thing about this all. I mean, I'm a nice person. Sure I'm snarky and sarcastic and easily irritated sometimes, but when it comes down to it, I'm not mean. And I can be really nice. And I'm obsessive, which yeah, could be bad when it's bad, but if it's good then like...I'm yours. And I'll know everything I can know. I'll know what you won't even know. I'll have you figured out like a map; I'll know every route, memorized, veins like rivers tangling over mountains of bone. I'll know the terrain. Soft, rough, smooth, dry; skin like grass, like sand, like shingle.

A sense of ownership. But a gift that could be taken at any moment, not to be taken for granted, but to be cooed over, treasured. Like a doll. I'd know every joint. Your make and break points. The right angle at which to shatter you into pieces, and just the tools to put you back together again. But I wouldn't. Break you. Just memorize every bolt. Every curve under-the-knee shape. I'd know you like a statistic. The angle of your lashes. The blue-green-brown-grey of your irises. I'd look after you. Like a doll.

By the way, I don't have any tattoos and haven't had much of an urge to get any in my 27 years. And I don't wanna get all Will Ferrell-as-James Lipton on your asses by overselling this, but if I were to get a tattoo, it would be of some of these words. Yep.

Oh and Rach, the invitation is ALWAYS open... *making that face*