Don't Understand Goths?
Neither did I.

There is a giagantic mirror in my school's choir room, running almost from one wall to the other, left right, up down. I often find myself glancing at it to see if I can pick myself out among my large class. It seems to take me longer than it should, and when I finally do I think . . . "That's not me." That person is . . . someone. That person is . . . what others see, but what they shoud not! That person is ordinary, that person belongs to pathetic reality, a world that can't change. That person is not me.

I live in my own little world, literally. Yet it is nothing but little to me. I think too much about that world, and through it I learn easier about the souls of other people, although not how I should in their world. They are humans; pathetic, weak little humans, just like the image in that mirror.

Oh! it's not just the choir room mirror. It's any mirror or window I pass that holds an image of a sad-looking, downcast, somewhat depressed and excluded girl who daydreams too much for her own good. She is too plain. In my world I am the queen of all things Art. I am the creator of many things, and most of them happen to be unfinished ideas, or unfinished daydreams, or undone acts. Am I ashamed of my image? Yes and no. I don't want people to think that this is me, but if they actually look into my eyes---if they actually look AT me, they can see the bitter fire that has been a part of my life. But who looks at me? I'm not talking of rejection here, I'm talking about actually SEEING a person. Someone's outside appearance makes others turn their heads, whether it be good or bad. In a society where style is everything, I want my style to be everything about me, not just some girl.

I am myself, and you can't change that. And neither can I. Here I am presenting myself however it pleases me. . . . Embracing myself. . . . Embracing others by embracing my own image first. It may appear a little dark or hard core or whatever it looks like to human eyes. But why does it appear that way? Is it because it's how I learn or how I view the world? Could be. There could be a lot more reasons, too. Which reasons would those be? How will we ever find out?

Mirror image. Look in that long mirror and . . . tell me. Befriend me. But don't go too far or too hard . . . else that reflection might change once more.