I think our bodies have inside clocks that subconsciously recognize dates when our minds refuse to.

Today (August 5t) I found myself picking out a tank top I chose specifically to show off the tattoo on my back. Then, as I got ready for bed, I slipped the tank top off and I took the time to admire the artwork on my left shoulder. I touched the words deeply imprinted in my skin: "always and forever."

I remember the pain. I remember thinking, "I wonder if this is anything close to the pain she felt." I remember being alone. I had watched another girl squeeze the hand of a friend, but the pain I was feeling wasn't so easily shared. I remember my artist surprised at this being my first, at my pain tolerance, at how "brave" I was. Three hours.

And still, I had to remind myself when it was finished that I couldn't show it to her.

Don't talk to me about regrets. People seem to always secretly believe you'll regret your tattoos later in life. But Emilee's name is on my skin, just as it is appears, carved inside of me. I got to taste the pain she felt. I got to imagine what it was to know something was so close to your spine. And I placed our symbol of hope, our sign of sisterhood, our reminder of miracles, upon my skin forever. Those monarchs are what we somehow saw every time we went for a walk. Those wonderful walks I wish I could relive, full of hugs and tears, of fears and prayers, of love, and most importantly, of laughter.

Happy 3 years to the piece of art that holds such mind-numbing meaning that I placed it on my back, so I wouldn't always have to face it. But today I faced it, my eyes admiring it in the mirror, and I found my heart fill up with pride. My tattoo is my own scar because really, I am now the survivor of this story and I carry her story with me.

I find I don't always assign the value deserved onto something I watched someone I love fight so hard for: life. Because ultimately, my greatest tribute to her will be the life I live. And this piece of art, inscribed on my shoulder, painted and inked onto my skin, is my reminder. My reminder for what kind of a life she would have wanted for me.

Don't talk to me about regrets. This tattoo will be on my skin forever, no different from the name and memories I will carry inside my heart, forever. So don't ask if I'll regret this. Ask me instead, what it means to me. Ask me about why I got it, ask me what this reminds me of. But only ask if you actually care. Because I will tell you her story. And I will share shamelessly how her life has changed me, and how I plan to live my life because of her.