My skin is covered in tattoos.
They're fiery red and constantly changing, like flickering flames.
They tell the story of where I've been and they hint at where I'm going.
My tattoos are what Buddhists call dukkha.
They represent suffering, but through that suffering, they provide fuel to kindle the flames of my spirit.
I didn't choose these tattoos, they chose me.
It isn't easy being marked in this way and sometimes the rashes make people stare.
But I'm grateful that they are there.
As the tattoos on my body wax and wane, brimming with the threat of relapse, they remind me to live every moment as if it is my last.