Inky Emotions

Is it the Gemini in me? Maybe the fundamentalist? Maybe just the fact of being human. I get what I want and it either scares me, makes me feel guilty, or a joyous combination of both. Maybe this is normal. Probably. Maybe it means I’m fucked up. Probably. Maybe being fucked up is normal. More than likely.
I have wanted a massive tattoo for years. I about do it, then put it off, over and over. I haven’t been able to shake my desire for it. It’s not like I wanna get Taz, Tweety, or Timon on my ass or anything. All my tattoos have meaning to me. My first one, on my back, I got when I was twenty-one representing my masculinity and independence. The second one, a band around my left arm, I did when I was twenty-three, representing my Faith. The third, in my last few days of my twenty-eighth year, which I am scheduled to begin in less than three hour,s simply represents me, Brandon, using two symbols of importance throughout my life.
On my back upper right shoulder will be the animal I have always considered myself to be most like, a wolf. Not that I am all dark and cool and stuff, but I do relate to how they live their lives. They are the perfect contradictional mix of personalities. They are independent and solitary, and overtly social, loyal to their pack, and relish in the companionship of those they love. They can be loving, sweet, devoted, and they can be cruel, vicious, and cunning. They are close enough to dogs to be confused with them, yet are entirely different. Maybe comparing myself is just a way of glorifying all that I am without cause, most people don’t see the comparison to me, but I do. In and of itself, I think that is wolf-like. I am not one thing, I am two.
On the front, partially on my chest, but mostly on the front of my right shoulder and arm will be a merman. I do not remember a time in my life when I have not been obsessed with mermaids. I’ve never been able to understand their allure or their power over me. I used to draw them incessantly when I was younger. To the point where my parents forbade me to draw them for a period of time. One of the few orders I directly disobeyed. I have always wanted a tattoo of one (or a hundred), but never had the nerve. The merman part of the tattoo I designed myself, except for his bottom fins. Everything else was partially my design, but he was completely.
The wolf and merman will be in black, and then in purple/blue there will be tribal like swirlly patters from my right chest, the right side of my back, over my shoulder, and covering a lot of my right arm halfway down the forearm. My other tattoos I can cover at will. The only way to cover this one will be a long sleeve shirt.
As I sit here, where excitement has been for so long, now there is fear. What if I look fucked up? What if it makes me look shorter? What if my white-trash roots show through? What will I look like in thirty years? How badly will this hurt my parents? Why do I allow in guilt around something that has nothing to do with anyone else but me? Will people be able to see all of me with this many tattoos? Do I care? Will it throw off the man I may one day want to marry? Would I want to marry such a man anyway?
Well, never know what kind of therapy I will use this blog for, but here is the latest session. Actually, it helped. Still petrified, but I needed to talk through why I want it and what it means, and selfishly focus on me in it. Me? Selfishly focused on myself? Never. ;)