Some people don’t like tattoos. I don’t understand those people. They’re usually very vocal. Like so many things in life, if you don’t like it or don’t want it, whatever. It doesn’t affect your life so don’t care about it.
I am not one of those people. The dislikers.
When I sat in science class at fifteen I used to sketch tattoos on to my arms in biro. It’s just something I always knew I wanted, didn’t even think about not getting. The week I turned eighteen I was in the tattoo shop. And I don’t think I’ll stop for a while.
I only have tattoos on my arms for now; I love them in so many places but something about not being able to see them in front of me feels weird to me. My tattoos are solely for myself. They’re daily reminders and memories. I tend to opt for scripture over shapes and images. Maybe it’s the writer in me. I don’t know, the words just mean more, hold more gravity.
I get a lot of questions about them and I think that’s just because the words and phrases seem obscure to someone not familiar with the inside of my mind. And because people are curious. I love asking people about theirs.
So I’m doing this mini origins series.
LCD Soundsystem – All My Friends