FROM THE CONFESSIONS OF A. / A needle monologue

"Nothing was the same after that. I blamed myself. I was guilty. All of my thoughts the rest of the summer was about that. I know I didn´t push. I know it was an accident. Still...

The pier had floated over to a spot where noone hade been in the water before. We had no idea of the large rocks.

The only memory I have of her is the sunflower. The tiny tattoo on my left ancle...the same tattoo that she had.

After the camp I tried to get it removed, I couldn´t stop thinking about her.

They said the scar never would go away. I went to a tattoo artist and asked to have it changed. When the needle hit my skin I cried out. I panicked.

So I kept it. Now I´m happy for that. It is a start for memories, a sign...

Ever since that summer I have this thing about needles. They thrill me. Make me weak in the knees. And afraid in a really fundamental way.

I really can`t explain ...