Stuck in the Labyrinth

What do you guys think? I may get this tattoo in July. Good idea? Bad idea? Thoughts?
Alternatively, I may get 7 smaller hearts going across my wrist (just imagine there are 6 more of those beside that one), what do you think of that one?
This one would be easier to conceal if need be, but the other one with more hearts was what I originally planned to get and it fits the meaning a little more.
I want to hear your thoughts =] I love when you guys comment, it's even better than a hype (though those are good too!).

Okay, so you don't like poetry, that's for sure.
So what DO you like?
Let me know in the comments =]

In the meantime, here are some pretty pictures.

Okay and here's some more poetry because I'm convinced that it's worth liking.


A haiku for my boyfriend =]
Your eyes, like shining
stars, look at me intently,
saying “I love you.”

I hope you find the right person that makes you realize what went wrong with all your past relationships.

So lately I've been so overwhelmed with school. I have to read this stupid French novel about these kids who want to be the Beatles but who suck ass. It came with a CD with a couple songs that are supposedly by them, but seeing as they're fictional characters, it was just created for the book. Still crap though, and our tests are about that as well as our exam so...I'm so fucking screwed. I'm fluent in French but I read the pages over and over again and it just won't get into my head- I won't really know what I read. When things bore me I can't force myself to read them. Anyone know how to solve this problem?

So what's going on in your guys' lives this week? =] Leave a comment and let me know.

Here's a poem I wrote last year. Let me know what you think =]

Replaced
 
Tired and teary-eyed,
She looks at herself in the mirror.
Once beautiful, now worn,
Her face tells a story.
The scars and wrinkles,
Like lines of a map, marking her journey.
Rough spots to mark the battles,
The smooth- the times of love.
But mostly rough.
She undresses herself,
Peels off her second skin:
The expensive dress she wore for him,
The stockings she wore as an illusion.
She stares, scrutinizing.
Listing all that she thinks, if only slightly changed,
Would bring back his love.
Her arms too thin, and mutilated,
The self-made scars depicting the story of her youth,
Her stomach, not as flat as it once was,
Still pierced, but now the jewellery hangs limp,
More sad now than sexy,
The small area of her body, a link to her soul,
That she allowed to be used and abused,
In attempts at love, all in vain,
Now limp, loose and untouched for so long.
She all but forgot what if felt like to have him inside of her.
Her legs, once muscular and tanned,
Now cellulite and sun spot covered,
No longer the supermodel pegs that once attracted him to her.
It was all still her though. And he had loved her once,
Hadn't he?
Hadn't he said so? She could barely remember.
But he could never love her now.
This 40-something, overworked and overused body.
A gallery of scars. Memories etched into her skin.
The memories, fading like the scars,
Are all she has now.
So she lay naked onto the cold, white porcelain floor,
That they once made love on in their youth,
And like every other night,
For almost as long as she could remember,
She cried herself to sleep,
And hoped to never wake up.

Two months until school is finally over. Two months until this stress it lifted off my back. Two months until sleeping in doesn't mean until 9am. Two months. Two months. Exactly two months.
I talked to guidance today, I apparently just missed a test in French class so I just have to read the book that it's on and do that and apparently I'll graduate. So that's good. But these last two months are so stressful. I'm not sure how I'm going to get through it.
The amount of work that has to be done in these next 2 months is going to be overwhelming, and I'm not sure how I'll be able to work, go to night school, and talk to my boyfriend while trying to pass. I'm so stressed...

In other news, I got 2 sheets about graduation: one of them saying that they're sending out the invitations to our parents for grad, the other asking what we'll be doing next year and our favourite memory from highschool-to say as we walk across the stage.

Sometimes I feel like that. And im a little relieved to not have to take on the responsability of university just yet.
Anyone else take a year off?

Here's a poem I wrote today:

Fiery balls shine bright,
shooting freely, so small; we
watch from far away.

Alternatively:

Fiery balls shine bright,
shooting freely now, as we
watch from far away.

Which do you like better? =]