I washed off the tattoo and along with it all the memories of him.

I met him when I returned to my hometown for high school. We were classmates, and during our high school years, we went from being strangers to becoming familiar with each other. Although we only occasionally exchanged a few words, just being able to talk to him made me happy. He probably never knew that I had a secret crush on him during high school. However, due to the pressure of preparing for college entrance exams, I never confessed my feelings.

（Classroom downstairs）

After entering university, with more free time, I started chatting with him almost every day. I felt like we had entered an ambiguous phase, but neither of us explicitly expressed our feelings. We simply enjoyed the joy that came with our unspoken connection.

During one university break, we arranged to meet up. (We attended different universities in different cities.) That day, before heading out, my friends helped me do my makeup and pick out an outfit. We spent the day together like an ordinary couple—shopping, choosing clothes for each other, and visiting a trendy restaurant I had always wanted to try.

（No photo together.）

By the end of the night, I planned to confess my feelings before we parted ways. However, my shy personality held me back, and I couldn’t bring myself to say, “I like you. Let’s be together.” Or maybe, deep down, I was hoping he would say it first. But as we stood at the station, preparing to go our separate ways, neither of us spoke those words. Next time we meet, I will definitely say it, I thought to myself.

Later, he sent me an image and asked for my opinion. It was a paper airplane design he had created himself. He told me that he had once dreamed of becoming a pilot because he longed to fly high in the sky and overlook the world. However, due to health issues, he couldn’t pass the physical exam. Now, he wanted to get a tattoo of this design to keep his dream alive and asked me to go with him.

（Similar patterns found online）

We met at the tattoo parlor, and after he got his tattoo, there was still some time left in the appointment. I had always thought tattoos were cool, so seeing him get one, I was tempted to get one too. But I was afraid of the pain. The tattoo artist reassured me, saying he would apply numbing cream so I wouldn’t feel a thing. After hesitating for a moment, I agreed.

When the tattoo artist asked what design I wanted, I hadn’t thought about it yet. He offered to design something simple for me, but I declined and said, Just tattoo ‘LOVE YOU’ for me. In my heart, I thought—he should understand what I mean, right?

After that, our conversations continued as usual. We chatted almost daily, discussing how to take care of our tattoos and how to deal with the itching during the healing process.

Then, one day, I suddenly saw a post on his SNS. It was a series of photos of him celebrating a girl’s birthday. His caption read, Thank you for coming into my life. From now on, I will be by your side for every birthday.

Honestly, when I first saw it, I was stunned for a long time. I kept checking the photos, double-checking the account, but no matter how many times I looked, the reality wouldn’t change. I was heartbroken. I felt betrayed. But then again, we had never explicitly confessed our feelings to each other—could this really be considered a betrayal? Was I deceived? Not exactly. I was also angry. To him, I was probably just someone he had shared some ambiguous moments with, or maybe just an old classmate.

For a long time, I spiraled into self-doubt. Why did this happen to me? I lost interest in everything, drifted through my days aimlessly, and didn’t have the courage to make new friends. I couldn’t even bring myself to tell my friends about it.

Every time I looked at the tattoo on my wrist, I felt heartbroken. So, I started wearing long sleeves all the time, even though the weather in my area was never particularly cold. I didn’t want to see it—it was a scar on my heart, a painful reminder of everything I had buried. Maybe time would eventually heal everything.

Years later, during a reunion with my close friends, I finally shared the story with them. They told me I shouldn’t punish myself like this. They suggested I remove the tattoo as a way to erase all traces of him from my life. I realized they were right—if I truly wanted to move on, I needed to eliminate every mark he had left in my life.

I reached out to the tattoo artist from before, and he told me they also offered tattoo removal services. I also inquired at beauty clinics, which provided the same service. Fortunately, my tattoo was small and simple, so it only took three sessions to completely remove it. The process was painful (I will write another article about my experience with tattoo removal), but with the support of my friends, the tattoo artist, and the doctors, I persevered.

Now, my wrist shows no trace of the tattoo. And I am ready to gather my courage, embrace a new life, and become a better version of myself.