Today, while standing in the lunch line at work, a colleague commented on my tattoo of Monkey. He asked what the cat was holding if it was a moon. I replied that it was a banana. He looked at me bewildered, like WTF a banana. He then said, oh, I couldn’t tell, it almost looks like he is crushing the moon. I said no, it’s a banana, it was his favorite toy.

“Oh, I take it he isn’t alive anymore?”

“No, he isn’t.”

WTF dude. I know that tattoos are out there, on my skin, for everyone to see, but if you are going to comment, at least not fucking be awkward about it. It made me forget the visibility to the public the love that I have for Monkey, and that in that display, it could put me subject to awkward conversations.

But for you my love, I’d have 100 awkward conversations over. The public display of my love for you is forever, until the day I die, and we can meet again.

Old Times

This week, my BF was out of town. He doesn’t go out of town without me much, and the introvert that I am, was very much looking forward to time alone. Time alone. Before my time alone was spent with Monkey. Monkey always was there for me in times of loneliness, he was always by my side. I found myself with similar feelings as to when I was alone, but Monkey wasn’t there. Well, not by my side, but that special little boy, will always be in my heart. Reminding me of old times, and there in my heart to keep me safe and warm in the present.