This weekend I did something that marked a change in my life...
I took out my 8 gauge earrings that I've had in my ears for 7 years. I actually wanted to take them out a while ago, but couldn't do it myself. I needed special pliars to open them and I just never go around to going to a piercing shop to do so. They were given to me by a 20 year old raver guy with whom I had a short little fling with in San Francisco. He wore pants that completely covered his feet, bleached hair, and had a big rod through his nasal septum. I was intrigued. He also had colorful alien tattoos all over his body which he said signified the rave culture that saved him when he ran away from home at 14 years of age. He never finished high school. I picked a real winner, eh?
He did a lot of drugs and by the time he left San Francisco (His stay wasn't long.) he was addicted to heroin and shot it up at least once. Sad. He really didn't think that he had anything going for him and drugs were all that he had. He told me this in so many words. I wasn't seeing him at this point, although I paid him a couple of visits.
I lent him twenty bucks when he left for Colorado. I knew that I would never see the money again which was a lot for my broke ass. Months later the phone woke me up from my morning sleep. It was him and he just wanted to thank me for my help. That was it and I have no idea where and how he is in this world now.
That is the story behind the earrings which were given to me when he decided that he was going to get bigger gauged earrings and pierce his entire body. They don't hold any sentimental value regarding him but I do like their history. They sort of signified a certain period in my life. My dancing days. My San Francisco days. My hazy days. My crazy days.
When my friend who is a piercer took them out this weekend, I felt a twinge of sadness, like I was losing a little part of myself.
Oooh, but did I mention that I now have a whole new category of accessorizing now?