Don’t ask me about my tattoos

Kitty sketchbook


Sometimes hardest is to define our own motives, specially of past.


“Don’t ask me about my tattoos” is one of them. When asked by someone, it’s easy to relate to the meaning. But is that it?

Some ask why hurt yourself?  Or Why so permanent? My granny asked whether I was going insane.

For me it’s not just the tattoo or simply what it means. It represents the day, the year, the different person I was back then, how I waited  impatiently for it to heal, innocent happiness I felt, with whom I was in love with…

You will ask me and I will tell it’s the symbol of freedom. But freedom is not the  sole reason I cherished it all these years… Are people capable of having clear cut reasons for the tattoos they get or things they do?

I remember the day I got my first tattoo. Anxious in a good way… Butterflies in my stomach… for two reasons.

First- my first tattoo

Second- I was there with a friend of mine, a friend that made my heart beat faster at a time I was far too stubborn and shy to accept I am capable of something called love.

I remember how he held my hand while I’m cringing from tiny tinglings of pain… I remember his eyes on me… And how I thanked him afterwards for being such a good friend and how he smiled at my eyes silently making them want to look at my feet…

Now, years and years gone by

whenever I come across that tattoo

I feel it as gold. I run my hand across it and remember his smile…

I feel golden

But I am not going to tell you that. I will be telling “It is the symbol of freedom”…