It began in the junior years.
My last name, badly drawn in an poor-effort calligraphical style on my left wrist.
My Chinese last name, scribbled hastily, missing a stroke. Making it not really my last name, but a weird derivative of it. So it really wasn't my last name.
And so I picked it up again. Diamonds was my first idea. The shiny ugly diamonds, with lots of thick lines in black.
Then faces with their tongues sticking out, proper patterns too big to fit onto my wrist.
The next day, I kept the ugly diamond design. Each day I kept it, it got uglier and uglier. I liked it like that, when I looked at it, woke up in the morning, it was there but ugly, almost-permanent and ugly.
So when I tried washing it off, I don't know why I wasn't surprised when I found faint blue lines that refused to slide off my wrist, even with the scrubbing of soap and blasting of hot water.
I guess real tattoos are harder to wash off.
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