TATTOO TALK THURSDAY: MY COLUMBINE TATTOOS

**If you only have nasty shit to say, move right along. Any negative remarks will be deleted.**

It's been 5 long years since I got my Eric Harriss & Dylan Klebold signature tattoos. In this book I'm going to show off the tattoos, explain why I got them and touch on the other Columbine themed tattoos that I have. 

We'll start with the signature tattoos first.
Dylan Klebold on the right. Eric Harris on the left.

Same Arm, Just Different Sides.

Yes, they are their real signatures taken from the propane receipts that the boys signed the morning of the attack. I spent a few weeks going through tonnes of documents online and in print books. I wanted to have their signatures; I wanted a piece of them in me. I wanted something that they did on their last day marked in my skin. I don't know why I wanted signatures. I thought well, people collect authors, artists and musicians names tattooed on them, so why not go with two people who embodied the feelings I felt as a teenager? It was more than just a validation of feelings, my lifestyle and viewpoints, it was a connection to an event in my past inspired by the actions of these two teenagers. I find it interesting that I'd go on to have almost the same feelings and thoughts about myself, my classmates and those around me, yet I'd not yet learned the reasons behind Columbine. It wasn't until years later, as a young adult that I started digging and started looking not only into Columbine but to the event that almost ended my life in June of 1999.

It was a way of not only being able to identify my own feelings, try and validate these feelings but also a way for me to work through what happened to me. Memories of the events that followed are only in pieces, but they've come together enough to help me form a picture. Without meaning to, these boys, thousands of miles away, helped shape some of the fundamentals of me (I'm not meaning this in a negative way.) and were the catalyst for several events in my life that left me changed; maybe for the better, maybe for the worse. I think it's more of a balance beam between the two. 

Columbine-Gotchi 
When I was a child I was given a Tamagotchi by my aunt. I thought it was the coolest little thing. At the time it was one of the most popular things, one of the first digital pets. I didn't think much of it when I was given my first one; I didn't see that it was technology advancing, that it was a stepping stone for other things. Nor would I have known that this one small hand-held game (it was really a keep your pet game if you don't know.) would become such an icon of an era.

When I think back to my childhood in the 90's I think of Tamagotchis, Pokemon, long summer skies stretching out above me, Yu-Gi-Oh, the future looking bright and limitless. The silence that hangs over my head disappates as I'm able to think back, bring myself back to a time when I was innocent, back to when I used to play with these toys.  1999 the year of the massacre. The year of the summer of influence. It may seem odd, but I'm glad the massacre happened; I'm glad it influenced the teenagers who almost shot me. I wouldn't have been able to see the world through some of the most important lenses of all; death. I'm able to look through the looking glass of life, into the world of death and find comfort. Comfort is a rare thing that I'm able to feel and I will take it wherever I can get it. I know that sounds selfish, but I don't really care.



Why did I go with mashing Columbine with a childhood toy?
I wanted to get another Columbine tattoo, but not another quote, or the words off their t-shirts. I wanted something that was unique and was very personal for me, as tattoos often are. Then it hit me. I could give the little pet a tec-9 (I was always more drawn to Dylan than Eric; I could identify with him more and he had more of the same thoughts that I did; similar viewpoints on the world.) and that pet could express the rage that I felt inside. I was angry about how I was treated in school. It's been 10 years since I left that environment-a decade- and I still hear their horrible comments and slurs thrown at me, painted on my locker. I remember the bottles of urine through at me. My belongings being thrown in the trash. It told me that what I owned was trash. Then when they started pushing me into the trash, it kind of cemented the belief that I was trash. I still believe it. I struggle with my self-worth. I'm trapped between the two states of being. I don't know which one is more realistic. It may not matter to some, but it matters deeply to me. 

I needed a healthier way to start to process the anger and hatred that I had. I figured a tattoo, not really commemorating, but acknowledging the pain, anger and suffering. I joke about the tattoo from time to time, but it's important in healing, in my journey. It helps me to curtail the rage and bitterness I feel. I still see some of those assholes on social media-happy, some are somewhat successful, in loving relationships and what do I have? Nothing. I struggle and fight and bite for the most basic things and even still I feel like I'm drowning; struggling against a tide that will ultimately claim me. My hatred toward myself. My hatred towards others. 


1994- The massacre inspired by Columbine portrayed in American Horror Story. I loved the way Tate was portrayed. It was quite easy to identify with him, not only style wise. but as the story unfolds I could see the anger at the family that Tate held; similar complaints and anger I held toward my parents when I was a teenager and the anger that I feel now. I loved the way they drew parallels and created such a relatable character, all the while using both the worst and most beautiful aspects of humanity. I wanted to put that duality in the tattoo because it's especially true of me.



"I want to be free." - Dylan Klebold
More people misunderstand this tattoo than any other one. They see it as a quote, which it is, but they think of it as something from the world of make-believe; a film, a book, a play. Or they'll see it as some celebrity who's words I liked or character I liked. They fail to see its a very real cry for help. How desperate does one have to be to literally write "I want to be free" in their skin? And it's still a joke to so many people. Fail to see that it's me crying and sobbing and telling them there is so much I can't handle, that I need help. I remember getting this one down in Tampa, Florida. Almost 4 years ago now. I was there alone at Christmas and I just couldn't handle the sadness and emptiness welling up in my chest. I was watching a documentary on Columbine and I was reading through some of the journals and there scribbled on a piece of notebook paper from almost 2 decades earlier my own words were screaming out at me. "I want to be free." I wanted to have that on me. Something told me that I just needed it.

I booked in the appointment the day after Christmas and had the hotel print out the page of the diary. I wanted it in his handwriting, that felt more significant to me. I went to a shop and told them this is what I wanted. The asked me about the lettering and the placement and everything and I told him I wanted it just where I wanted it and to do it. I didn't talk when I got the tattoo done; I watched as the artist carefully inked the words into my skin. He didn't ask why I wanted it and I'm grateful that I didn't have to lie to him about it. I didn't want to tell him why I was getting the tattoo, both for personal and obvious reasons. 

It still rings true today.That tattoo might just be one of the most honest and truthful pieces I have. I also have "Spring Nicht" and "Rette Mich" on my writs in German. The translation? Don't Jump- an anti-suicide statement, a sort of reminder for me to try and hold on and work things out, to keep fighting this illness. Rescue Me. Another literal call for help, maybe more prominent than that other ones. I feel like people ignore the seriousness, tell me just to get over it too much and fail to understand when I try to explain. I'm not much for explaining these days. I'm too tired and worn out by everything. It's all sliding downhill and these tattoos are small comforts. 

"We will be free to explore the vast wonders of the stars"- Dylan Klebold.

I read the quote when I was going through his diary entries and the quote stuck with me.
I wanted to get it on a place personal to me, a place that I could see when I looked in the mirror, I'd have something else to look at besides my face. Rather than end the sentence with a period, I chose to end it with a star. I wanted to symbolise that death is not the end, but its the next great beyond. I could connect to the words and sadness etched into Dylan's journals. I felt the pain, the humiliation, the longing and the desperation mirror my own. I've struggled with the same suicidal thoughts. I felt a calming peace when I was able to read these words. They didn't influence my own feelings in any other way than validation. It was deeply calming for me to know others had struggled in the exact same way. For me, I could see other paths I could take without having to wander down them. It, in many ways, was freeing.

Now the tattoos aren't part of some weird Columbine or Mass Murderer Cults. They are simply on me for personal reasons. They tell other parts of my stories that I don't wish to discuss right now; I don't know if I'll be able to. I do love to be taken back into those thoughts, memories and emotions that surrounded these tattoos and other parts of my life. I'm comfortable talking about them with a few special people, but with things like this, it's extremely difficult to express these things, not because I don't know how, but for fear of judgement and people misunderstanding how I mean.