I have four tattoos on my body. And there's only one that I want to keep. My own. I don't want the other three, they just remind me of what I had. Of what I lost. And vow to never have again.
See, everyone is born with a tattoo, a special one that no one else has. And when you fall in love with someone, you acquire their tattoo. It's actually a pretty good idea. Unless you're me, who falls in love with the wrong people.
My own tattoo is a rose behind my ear. Simple right? Like me. The first one I got was a star on my wrist when I fell in love with Austin. He was a total sweetheart at first, then i realized that he never got my tattoo. I tried to cover his up, so he wouldn't see I was in love. I was waiting for him to get his, for him to fall in love with me. I mean, he has other tattoos besides his so he knows how it is, right?
After a month of being together, he still didn't have my tattoo on him. I started to lose hope. But then I had an idea! Maybe he was doing the same thing as me, hiding his tattoo because he was scared, or maybe he had been hurt by his last love so he was scared of loving another so he hid it. I finally got enough courage to not cover it one day so he could see. He took one glance at it and gave a sharp laugh. He called me stupid and pathetic for loving him so quickly. He told me that he never wanted me, he was just using me to get someone jealous. That was the last I saw of him, left only with memories and a stupid tattoo.
After three months of wallowing I decided to go outside. I wasn't looking for anyone but I needed fresh air. Maybe I could find a friend, someone that could be a shoulder to cry on, or someone with a minimal amount of tattoos.
I was at a coffee shop when I ran into, quite literally, Liam. I looked into his icy blue eyes and immediately felt drawn to him. He extended a hand to help me up and smiled. He asked if he could buy me a drink since he bumped into me and knocked mine out of my hand. I shyly agreed and quickly fell head over heels for him. I believed that it was love at first sight. He was kind, sensitive, caring, and can't forget complete eye candy! But that became a huge problem.
Liam and I had been dating for six months. We had each other's tattoos. He had my rose on the inner part of his bicep and I had his seashell on my collarbone. He loved me and I loved him. He treated me like a princess, he was my shoulder to cry on. Until he was the one to make me cry. One day he came home with a spot on his arm, poorly covered with makeup. When I asked him about it, he denied it and insisted that he loved me and that he would never stop. Two days later he didn't cover it up and told me that he was leaving me for someone else and that he didn't love me. I started crying and begging him to come back but he didn't care. He packed up his things and walked out, not looking back.
It took me a year to get over Liam. He was an amazing guy and I realized that you can't choose who you love sometimes. I didn't think I would fall so fast for him. It wasn't his fault that he fell for another. I forgave but didn't forget him.
Two months after I was finally over Liam is when I met Oliver. Ollie had a motorcycle, combat boots, tough guy attitude, which should have been a sign, but I ignored it. He was the exact opposite of Liam which is what I thought I needed. I got a feather tattoo on my ankle that night. I so badly wanted to love someone that I chose Ollie, and he apparently chose me because the next day when I saw him, he had my tattoo. My rose on his forearm. He took me on a date to the park, his tough guy was just a front. He was funny and sweet. His dark, emerald green eyes lit up when he saw that I had his tattoo.
Two months later, he became controlling. Mean. Abusive. Not with his fists but with his words. He was constantly telling me what I should wear, what I should eat, who I could hang out with. He started making me feel bad about myself. I looked in the mirror and cringed every time. He made me seem like some kind of horrible, ugly girl that shouldn't even deserve his love. But he loved me. He had my tattoo. I had his. So what if he hurt me? I was determined to make this relationship work. I wanted it to last. But it didn't. One day he got so mad at me because I burned his food. He screamed that I was worthless and incapable of loving anymore. He packed up his things and slammed the door.
Every day I look in the mirror I think of him. I look at myself and see the tattoos and remind myself that I don't need love. I need to love myself more than anyone. Today, I got another tattoo. A single rose on my hip, my own tattoo that no one could see. The last tattoo I get and the only one that I want.
