I don’t know when exactly the fascination started, but I remember having an interest in tattoos when I was a kid. I don’t think I understood what they actually were, but they were pretty neat to behold.
Later, when I understood what a tattoo was, I’d express interest in getting one. This was usually met with criticism and warnings. “If you get a tattoo, you’ll regret it.” “Everyone I know who has a tattoo wishes they’d never gotten it.” “It’ll fade over the years and look bad when you’re older.” And all that bullshit
I was so gullible that I believed it all. I even asked people who had tattoos if they regretted them, thinking they probably did. No one said they regretted their tattoos and they all seemed quite proud of them.
When I got my first tattoo, at first I was unsure about it. All the things I’d been told were on my mind and I wondered if I’d made a mistake. But eventually those feelings subsided. The tattoo was important to me, I wanted it and I needed it. Also, by getting that first tattoo, I’d broken one of the chains that was always holding me back.
I did what I wanted to do. I didn’t need anyone’s permission and I didn’t let anyone talk me out of it. I don’t even care what my tattoos will look like when I’m older.