My Body Tells a Story - by Holly Solem
1. ha! (Changed to haR)
When I took my best friend Anna to get us matching tattoos for her twenty-fifth birthday, I knew it was the kiss of death. Our friendship had already been tenuous, the stench of resentment emanating from her and desperation leaking from me. I wanted us to be bonded for life, our first initials an acronym for all the laughs we’d shared over the years. But at twenty-three, I was naive to think this could work. Still, not that naive ‘cause in my guts, I knew that the real reason she secretly hated me was because she knew — in her heart of hearts — what I’d done: slept with her boyfriend.
When you’re young and on drugs, it’s easy to get confused, trip, and fall on the wrong dick. It had happened to me a few times, a couple of drunken whoopsies, sometimes I didn’t even know these people had significant others with whom they’d promised themselves too. And Anna had three boyfriends going simultaneously at all times, so it was almost like there was no one left for me to …
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