I am a graffiti addict. The spray paint murals under the free way bridges are beautiful to me. My own graffiti is small and erasable. Tiny words pushed onto the fake wood desks.

"You are unable to commiserate", screams my science desk.

"VIVID" is etched into my table in English.

I read the scribbles in the bathroom, usually they are pointless, vulgar. But every now and then…

Those tiny ink spots mean so much to me, and finding them in hidden in places makes me happy.

The names etched into the backs of lockers give them a sense of belonging. Knowing that they were there and they did okay makes it a little bit easier.

Tattoos intrigue me, body art, personal graffiti. I cannot keep the pen off my arms, my hands, all covered in nonsense poetry, song lyrics, tiny pictures.

My spiraling train of thought inked onto my arms.