Id like to say I don’t have enough tattoos. Over a collection of time I’ve spent money on the work or desided to buy a 30$ tattoo gun (and do it my self.) The first tattoo I have ever done was “I’m already dead:” right on my left hand. It hurt like hell but has a depth of meaning to it. Whether past history, I’ve already been broken down to my worst; what else can you do to me? The experience of death, I’ve seen to many people die the feeling is or has become a normalization.
The tattoos I have around my wrist, broken ropes explaining how I’ve broken free from a lot of intrapments. Especially the ones of violence, anger, hatred. Another tattoo I did my self “the kids want acid.” I was “stupidly“ 14 years old taking tabs, eating mushrooms: the psychedelic lifestyle struck me early in life and that statement has always resonated with me. As a kid i always questioned everything, and in turn got my hands on things most kids wouldn’t even imagine doing ( never meth or other Hard drugs) but psychedlics in a whole. Which has made me who I am today. “Love me“ is tattooed underneath my eye, which has been done recently before Christmas (2019) and I came home to see family. That statement strikes me. For what people see me as, maybe fear me as, who I was, especially my family; ”Love me” it’s the first thing you read when you look at me. Accept me for who I am, the man I am now. Growing up i did what I had to, this or that does not make me who I am, my beliefs don’t make me anyless human and nor do my mistakes. But so be it, I’m tired of the hatred “love me.” “No followerz” another tattoo going down the side of my face. Basically don’t follow me, as a creative, a musician,the lifestyle. I always done my own thing, I never aspired to be anyone really or had anyone to look up to. I think it’s important to find your own style, look, and person. Don’t follow me or anyone. “I’ve reached mountains to bleed what I’ve seen.” That tattoo is written in Latin or converted. I came up with that on a acid trip (lsd,) while drawling. i Was about 17 when I really started taking music seriously and it stuck with me ever since. I’ve overcame and still am overcoming obstacles and some feel like mountains. Once I get to the top I “bleed“ the stories threw my art, my music, my writting. Another good one would be my uncle Dave. In 2001 he was diagnosed with cancer and given 6 months to live. He survived for 12 years. Back in the day he used to race boats on the Great Lakes and on the oceans. His helmet he wore had his name in bold cartoonish bobble letters. When he died I took that helmet for memory. He wasnt just an uncle, he was a father to me. Tangent “he was my fathers brother and my father was never really around.” When he died I took it pretty hard and that piece on the back of his helmet is what I got tatted in his memory.
I think lastly should be“ eat boogies and fuck.” It’s tattooed on my rib cadge ( I did that upside down in my basement on the couch.) It looks like my daughter wrote it on her first day of kindergarden. But, to me it’s my personality. Do “I eat boogies and fuck?” No it’s kinda like a Statment the joker would say “why are you so serious?” Swear words are apart of our language and I think we’re way to past them being drawn as awful, inappropriate. The look on people’s faces when they read it is amazing, joyful, or laughter. But some? It’s worse then when they take a look at my face being tatted up. But I love being the outcast and the art on my body is apart of me, my past and who I am. -c.cappo
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“He Kept Going When No One Was Watching — And That Changed Everything”
No one ever noticed the days he almost gave up. There were no messages asking if he was okay. No one wondered why he became quieter. No one asked how much effort it took just to keep going. To the world, he was just another ordinary man. His name was Ayaan. Ayaan’s life didn’t collapse in one dramatic moment. It slowly faded. Missed opportunities. Rejected ideas. Silent disappointments. Every failure was small, but together they became heavy. He had dreams once. Big ones. Dreams that kept him awake at night, imagining a future where his hard work would finally matter. But over time, those dreams began to feel unrealistic—almost embarrassing. People around him seemed to move forward effortlessly. They celebrated promotions, achievements, and milestones. Ayaan watched from the side, smiling politely while feeling invisible. At work, his efforts were ignored. Among friends, his voice faded. At home, expectations weighed heavily on him. Slowly, a dangerous thought settled into his mind: “Maybe I’m not good enough.” That thought followed him everywhere. It followed him on crowded buses. It followed him into sleepless nights. It followed him every time he tried again and failed. One night, after scrolling through endless success stories online, Ayaan closed his phone and stared at the dark ceiling. His chest felt tight, not because of pain—but because of exhaustion. He whispered quietly, “How long do I keep trying?” There was no answer. But that night, Ayaan made a decision—not a loud one, not a confident one. A tired decision. He decided to keep going, even if nothing changed. The next morning felt the same. The same routine. The same doubts. The same fear of wasting his life. But Ayaan showed up anyway. He worked when no one praised him. He studied when no one guided him. He practiced when no one believed in him. Some days, motivation disappeared completely. On those days, discipline took over. He reminded himself: “I don’t need applause. I need progress.” Weeks passed. Nothing dramatic happened. No sudden success. No recognition. No miracle. But something subtle began to shift. Ayaan became calmer under pressure. He learned to sit with discomfort instead of running from it. He stopped comparing his journey to others. The silence that once scared him now became his training ground. Months later, a serious problem appeared at his workplace. It was complicated, risky, and easy to blame on someone else. Most people avoided it. Some pretended it wasn’t their responsibility. Ayaan didn’t announce himself. He didn’t seek attention. He simply started working. Late nights. Mistakes. Corrections. Learning. There were moments he wanted to quit. Moments when fear whispered, “You’re not ready.” But he answered back, “I’ll learn.” Slowly, the problem began to disappear. Not perfectly—but steadily. People noticed, quietly. One afternoon, his manager called him into the office. Ayaan expected criticism. Instead, he heard a question that stunned him: “Where did you learn all this?” Ayaan paused. How could he explain years of silent effort? How could he explain working when no one cared? He simply replied, “I kept going.” That moment didn’t change his life overnight. He didn’t become famous. He didn’t suddenly become successful. But it changed something far more important. His belief in himself. For the first time, Ayaan understood that life doesn’t always reward effort immediately. Sometimes, it watches. It watches who continues without praise. Who improves without recognition. Who grows in silence. Years later, Ayaan looked back at the version of himself who almost quit. The man who felt invisible. The man who thought no one was watching. And he smiled. Because he finally understood the truth: Life was always watching. Not to judge. Not to rush. But to see if he would keep going when it was hardest. The world doesn’t reward those who only work when they’re seen. It rewards those who build strength in silence. And sometimes, the moment that changes everything doesn’t come with applause. It comes quietly. After patience. After effort. After consistency. That is when everything finally begins to change. Final Message Keep going—even when no one is watching. Especially then.
By Inayat khan5 days ago in Motivation
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