Look about your surroundings, you cannot venture far before discovering the ethereal alter-ego of gangsters. The group whose members contain the negative-image of the delinquents we see in our ghetto-esque areas, the one, the only, the emos. These kids who are silhouettes in an otherwise lively crowd drag down the mood of themselves and others because of their “terrible lives that nobody understands!”
Many of our local “emotional folk” are distinguished by a few things: spiky protrusions, hanging chains, and a sullen yet fake look of weakness. These bastions of “pain and sorrow” claim that they have a terrible life and that they need to hurt themselves to relieve the pain. Frankly, these exoskeletons of malice and melancholy are ploys to attract attention to themselves in a feeble attempt to make themselves feel better. I have met many of these “emos” and found them to have great lives, wonderful parents, and good grades! This disregard of their own success is rather hilarious, as they force themselves to believe their facades of darkness solely against them and no one else.
Relating to the nineteenth century German affair the kulturkampf (cultural struggle), these children are struggling for acceptance in a world that procures stereotypes out of thin air to throw at these black-laden kids. However, clothing is negligible, as there are those few who maintain a regular mindset, but share the same taste in clothing, makeup, etc. These kids, however, are worthy of some condolences, as their taste in fashion has synthesized hatred from many all targeting them due to one little similarity.
In short, the issue is that many kids choose to adorn themselves in a cloak of isolation, while blasting music into their ears that supports their “apparent” sadness. Morally, many find that tuning others out helps them deal with their “pain”, but how can they do that when all they do is prolong their inevitable sadness? Is this what we want? A gloomy world where no one understands each other and one little problem can send somebody’s morale to the pits? A pathetic excuse for avoiding life?
Alas, j’ai parlé trop, adieu! (I have spoken too much, good bye!)
-MATH