An Ink Story


I once had a tattoo. In fact, I had a couple of them. A green dragon bursting fire on my shoulder, tribal tattoo on my wrist and a skull on my arm.

One night after a nice shower, my tattoo started to peel off and was gone within a couple of days. Then I would spend another 50 cents at the vending machines for a new tattoo.

There is no permanent ink on this body. The only permanent marks on this body are my stretch marks and burn scars on my arms.

Would I ever get a tattoo? Yes and no.

No I wouldn’t get the typical basic tattoo of anchor or a quote that is shape of an anchor. At first it was cool but now everybody and their moms has them.

If I were to get a tattoo I would get a black and white tattoo of a skull with a bird on it and flowers surrounded around them. What’s the meaning behind it? No deep personal meaning behind it. I’m just obsessed with skulls.

A deep meaningful tattoo that I once planned on getting was my parents signatures on my wrist. Or a portrait of them in their younger days. My parents are my ride and die. Like any child, I would do anything for them. For some people, tattoos are an important way to show tribute and love to those who they lost.

When someone gets some ink on them some people perceive them to be much more attractive. Not everyone questions about the pain they endured while getting ink but would rather admire and drool over for them. Trust me, I know a couple of people that look ten times hotter with tattoos.

Ok so let’s say if I were to get some ink on me. I would have to wait for it fully heal. I can’t sleep in this position, cannot wear certain clothing and the list goes on. Once it’s fully healed, now what? Do I show it off and let people ask me the basic questions: “Oh did it hurt? What does it mean? You know you can’t get a job, right?”

I have a psychological theory of people with tattoos: There’s people who look good in tattoos and people who don’t. I personally feel like I wouldn’t look good or attractive with a full sleeve tattoo on my flabby arms or anywhere on my body.

Maybe if I work out much more often and hit the gym more, it would look somewhat decent.

Nonetheless, some tattoos cost some serious bucks. I know a couple of people who invested some serious money to get inked on. Trust me, I would rather invest my money into something way better. Like concert tickets, clothes, shoes and more shoes.

One time my best friend invited me to watch her get a tattoo. It was the first time I witness someone getting one done. She laid down as the artist was prepping up. Then he turned his machine on. Off he went pressing down against her skin. I offered my hand, as her face changed. She kindly decline it and said she enjoys the pain.

How does one enjoy the pain of the needle stinging you with permanent ink. Just imaging the pain of the needle pressing your skin and leaking out blood. Oh no! I wouldn’t be able to take it honestly. Hearing the buzzing sound from the machine just makes me jump. Yea I admit, I can be one little sissy.

A huge sissy I must say. I booked an appointment for a small tattoo of skull, obviously, As the guy turned on the machine getting ready to ink me on wrist. Sweating and shaking from being scared. I immediately back out and left. My dignity and 60 dollar deposit was lost that day.

I must admit, regretting getting a tattoo is probably one of my fear. So if I or simply anyone regrets getting one. Money and time would be wasted and the pain they went through was pointless and not worth it. I know someone who got tattoo because they were simply bored and saw their friend getting one. Now he regrets it.

I saw a guy who has, Newburgh, tattooed on his neck in big black letters. I personally felt bad for him because everybody knows that he regrets having the murder capital of New York tattooed on his neck.

Yea at the end of the day tattoos are beautiful and is more than just an artwork. They remind you who you were, why you got them and the deep meaning of it and how it affects you.

So will my exterior ever be filled with artwork and express who I am? Possibly or possibly not. For the meantime, I’ll let my little brother sharpie in a taco above my buttocks.