A birthday note to myself – I don’t need to be fully understood to be fully whole — Harshada
- Team Aliens
- Aug 8
- 3 min read
She Didn’t Want a Cake. She Wanted a Mark.
Hershey didn’t plan on doing anything big for her 21st birthday. No dinner reservations. No outfit picked out. No stories posted in advance.Just a quiet morning. A still room. A feeling she couldn’t name, but one she couldn’t ignore either.
That year, when she was 20, had been complicated.Not loud and chaotic. Not full of drama or heartbreaks.But heavy in a way that only she could feel.
It was the kind of year where you wake up and still show up, even when you’re tired.Where you laugh in groups and cry in the bathroom.Where you smile on video calls and spiral in silence.Where nothing falls apart completely, but nothing feels held together either.
She didn’t talk about it much. She didn’t need to.Because staying with herself through all of it was enough.
So on the morning she turned 21, she felt a quiet shift.It wasn’t relief. It wasn’t joy.It was a soft, deep exhale that said: I made it. Not to some big destination, but through.
Instead of letting that feeling pass, she chose to mark it.She booked a tattoo appointment that same afternoon.Walked in alone. No fanfare. Just a deep sense of presence.Like she was stepping into something only she could feel.
A Story, Translated Into Ink
She didn’t know exactly what she wanted, but she knew how it felt.The moment she stepped into Aliens, she knew she was in the right place. It wasn’t just a studio. It felt like a space that listened.
No pressure. No overexplaining. Just the right questions.
What are you holding?
What does this year mean to you?
What do you want to remember or release?
In that quiet conversation with her artist, the design began to take shape.
A minimal line art of a cat. No features. No face. Just form.
She hadn’t said “independence” or “mystery” or “resilience.” But the artist saw it.
Not just what she was asking for, but what she was feeling.
The softness. The strength. The silence. The staying.
It was surreal how something so simple could hold so much of her. And that’s when she knew: This wasn’t just a tattoo. It was her story, made visible.
The Moment the Needle Touched Her Skin
When the machine buzzed to life and the needle touched her skin, she didn’t flinch. Not because it didn’t hurt, but because the pain made sense.
It was sharp. Honest. Strangely calming. Like her body had finally caught up with what her heart had already lived through. Every line felt like a sentence. Every pause, a breath.
Her artist worked with quiet focus—gentle, grounded, intuitive. There was no rush. No pressure. Just presence.
In that hour, it stopped being about a tattoo. It became a ceremony. The act of translating an unseen year into something permanent. A way of saying:
This happened. I lived this. And now, I carry it, not as a burden but as a mark.
A Mark That Will Always Speak Back
She didn’t need to post it.She didn’t need to explain it.It lived quietly on her skin, the way the memory lived quietly in her present, powerful, and fully hers.
She may forget the playlist from that day.She may forget who texted her, or what she wore.But she won’t forget the choice.
The choice to honour herself.To show up for her own shift.To turn survival into a symbol, and pain into presence.
And every time she looks at that cat, she remembers the girl who stayed.
You Don’t Need a Reason. Just a Moment.
Maybe your birthday is around the corner. Maybe a version of you is ending.
Or beginning. Or just waiting to be seen.
You don’t need a reason to mark the moment—only the courage to honour what you’re feeling. Like Hershey, maybe you’re not looking for noise or attention. Maybe you’re just looking for a way to say: This mattered. I mattered.
And if that’s what this birthday feels like, we’d love to help you mark it.
and let’s turn this moment into something that stays.
