03/10/2026
Real, true friends are hard to come by. This one right here, Steven Acosta. I tattooed for probably 15 years or more. Cover-ups after fix-ups after re-dos, and a lot of brand-new work too. From his entire neck to his fingers, across his whole chest, and all the way down to his ankles.
Over the years I watched his transformation from a confused, what some might call troubled man into someone I was proud to call my friend. I got to play a small part in that along the way. He was like a little brother to me, always asking for advice. And he was one of the rare ones who actually listened and respected what I had to say.
A lot of times I’d give him advice and think, there’s no way he’s actually going to do that. But sure enough, by the next appointment he’d have it figured out, no matter how big or small it was. And once he fixed something in his life, it stayed fixed.
He had luck about like I do. The waves just kept coming, one after another.
We talked almost every day for the last three years or so. The last few months we barely talked, I got busy and side tracked with less deserving things I thought mattered. While he had way more going on than he could handle. That is time we can not get back. I regret not being there for him.
But I’m grateful I had a front row seat watching him overcome things most men wouldn’t even attempt. And it never got old telling him how proud of him I was.
Rest easy.
