I’ll title this last.

I have never been good at introductions; I will never be good at them as well. I focus too much on the opening, eager for an attention grabber despite knowing that in all forms of literature; and in all forms of life, it’s what dominates the story line that holds us until it ends. I will be simple, despite having a scatterbrain. I will attempt to tell my story without embarking on a tale. This first post will be the bandaid of my life. I am about to rip it off.

My given name, Jennifer Marie Dawn Scott has been drastically reduced to something I never really understood but went with anyway: They call me ‘Jensen’. This of course, adding an adorable antidote to my life - my boyfriends name is Benson. And despite the sheer sitcomness our names present, he is my other half, everything I have ever hoped for and wanted in a man and I love him.

I am 25 years old, and in my life like many others, I have been to hell in back. When I was a wee tot, I was terrified at the prospect of a world in flames lying just below us, but as my life as unfolded, my fear of hell as diminished. Hell is just something we walk on everyday, it coincides with heaven. Life is both beautiful and ugly.

I am not usually this serious; far more than anything, I enjoy to laugh and to smile and to give others the same joyous feeling. My jokes can be rather daunting and immature, or perhaps even inappropriate, but I am stuck on the solid and inconceivable fact that we only life once, I mean, fuck it: YOLO, you guys.

I love supernatural, magical and fantastical things and beings. I often dream of The Hogwarts Express still coming to save me from the dreary simplicity of what us ‘muggles’ are stuck with. I am an avid lover as zombies, dystopia fiction and the god damn Batman. 

I have seven tattoos that represent me in seven different ways, I am and I am not a carbon copy of the rest of humanity:
My first is L O V E, written on my left forearm below a single freckle in stencil. I have a soulmate out there with the same tattoo on her opposite arm. This was before the movement, but I am not at all concerned with the meaning. If you look at it and think I support people not killing themselves, well, that’s not a bad thing.
My second tattoo is who I believe is my grandmother, who despite not knowing very well, held a very strong aspect in my life. It is in old school art with a banner that states “Out of sight, but in my heart”.
My third, a cherry blossom tree that I had on me after I escaped deaths grim hands. Anyone who questions this, look up the definitive nature of a cherry blossom tree and then try not to tell me this is an incorrect gesture for the rapid movement of life. 
My fourth, during an ‘artistic’ stage in life, and also in dedication to my mother, an Andy Warhol flower, located above my hip.
Then, in a notion to help a friend and because I do believe that the message of the series is impactful, the mockingjay from The Hunger Games and in the spirit of the moment, right below it, Harry Potters scar. My last, below my left collarbone, above my heart, words that I stand by: What’s past is prologue. A shakespeare quote, a Spock line from Star Trek, a devine interpretion that my story is the combined effort of everything I have ever experienced and pulled myself up from, and the collectiveness to where I am at in my tale. 

Last, and certainly not least to bridge the gap. I have a best friend. Her name is Sarah Gowing and she is the light in my darkness. For 13 years she has been my polar opposite, and through all tides of life, whether it be complicated like death, or petty like boys, we have been there, she has been there, by my side holding my hand through it all. And though we don’t get to see each other often, she is still a piece of my heart. The Princess Peach to my Princess Daisy, the Serena to my Blair and I love her to itty bitty pieces.

So alas, my story did eventually turn into a tale, but now it is out of the way and thus I can begin.

Go.