There are stories that you write, and stories that write you. For me, tattoos have always been both. Each one marks a season, a lesson, a storm survived. They’re not just art on skin—they’re coordinates on the map of who I’ve become. The penmanship of those I love. The reminders of the words I needed most when life felt like chaos. When I wrote Nomad, I had my mother write the word across my wrist—a tribute to the faith journey that doesn’t always have a destination.When I wrote I Cry In Corners, I added a few more pieces—outlined reminders that my feelings aren’t facts, they’re indicators...