Jamie Berrios

I chose this Grim Reaper back piece to face the beauty of youth, the ache of aging, and the quiet grief of letting go. She’s not death—she’s transformation. Ultimately, I needed her—as a symbol, a truth, and a way to process something deeply personal. It’s about living with intention, even as everything within and around me shifts. She holds all the versions of me I’ve been—and the one I’m becoming.

If my ink could speak, it would murmur eulogies and rebirths. It began in the silence after my mother’s death, deepened through my father’s, and stretched across the ruins of love, friendship, and the life I thought I’d live. It’s grief carved into flesh—my way of bleeding without breaking. Each line carries what I lost, what I buried, and what I’ve had to become to survive.

First stop: Naruto theme park in Japan, obviously. I’ve waited my whole life to channel my inner shinobi and dramatically run through a village with my arms flailing behind me. Then I’d spoil my kindergarteners—tiny humans with zero filters who roast me daily and remind me what it means to live loud and love big. The rest? Ink. Head to toe. I’m talking walking graphic novel vibes. Not just for the aesthetic, but because therapy’s expensive and tattoos are forever.