Tuesday, May 27, 2008

My Emo Side

Emo kids really weird me out sometimes. They dress funny. They have funny hair styles. They have a bunch of piercings. They are extremely depressed. They also like to listen to Fall Out Boy.

While I am a big Fall Out Boy fan and also have two ear piercings, I wouldn't exactly say that I fit into the emo mold. I mean seriously, I'm not interested in cutting myself. And I don't cry for anything other than a grave loss or great physical pain. Nevertheless, recent events have made me wonder whether or not I should invest in a few pairs of skinny fit jeans and a bunch of black hoodies.

You see, despite the absence of tears, I was recently made aware of my emo side. Without going into too much detail, let's just say that someone dear to me withheld some pretty important information from me. In fact, this certain someone withheld about 9 months of important information from me. And let's just say this, 9 months worth of withheld information hits one like a ton of bricks. It took every ounce of pride in my 23-year old body not to lose face and run home crying to my mommy. To combat my frustrations, I did what any self-respecting individual in my position would have done: I went to the bar to grab another drink. But I digress...

So after this unwanted revelation about this person that I hold so near and dear to my heart, I'm seriously questioning my reasons for walking around as if I have any semblance of normalcy left. Old people would tell me that this one situation won't tarnish the potential beauty that the future holds. And yes, they're probably right. But given my naivety and unwillingness to accept that "this too shall pass," I am firmly committed to leading an emo lifestyle until the sun shines on my tattered heart once more.

But don't worry, my dear loved ones, I have no intention of cutting myself. That would just be dump. However, I do fear that blood loss or infections from the 10 piercings that I have planned could jeopardize my well-being. Additionally, my new skinny jeans will either kill me by cutting off all blood circulation in my lower extremities or just block me from ever being able to have children.

At any rate, time for Fall Out Boy, "Sugar, We're Going Down." Sugar, we've gone down.

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